The more things change
by otherhawk
Summary: Series of random incidents in the lives of young Danny and Rusty. Chapter 49 'Gnome and Garden'
1. The more things change

Of course I do not own anything to do with the Ocean's films. I just like playing in someone else's universe.

Note to people who may be waiting on another chapter of Shell Game: Um. Yes, well, I got the chapter two thirds done. And it was crap. Complete and total mince. So yeah, look for the next chapter coming to an internet near you, as soon as I'm capable of producing a version that isn't completely balls.

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**Careers Survey**

**Question 1: What do you expect to get out of your future career?**

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**  
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Danny blinked, then stared back down at the form in front of him blankly. It still said the same thing. Right. OK. He could do this. He had to – Mrs. Leitner said that if he didn't hand it in by tomorrow, she was going to fail him and call his mom. Again. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his pen. Inspiration failed to strike. He sighed loudly and kicked the leg of his desk.

**  
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It didn't help, but it made Rusty look up from his customary position, sprawled over Danny's bed surrounded by textbooks, pages of notes and candy wrappers.

"What's up?" he asked.

Danny half-twisted round to look at him. "What do I expect to get out of my future career?"

Rusty blinked. "Money? A job? A deep sense of personal satisfaction? Company car, dental plan, pension, a wife and 2.4 children?"

Danny pulled a face. "I'll take the money, I guess." He wrote a couple of Rusty's suggestions down, more or less at random.

"Is that the thing?" Rusty nodded at the form.

"Yeah." Danny answered, simply.

"And you didn't . . . "

"No." he said, firmly. He hadn't done it last week. He hadn't wanted to. He turned his attention to the next question, but something was bothering him. "You can't get children out of a job." he pointed out suddenly.

"It was more sort of a whole lifestyle deal." Rusty told him, absently. That made a certain amount of sense, though it did make him wonder how much daytime TV Rusty had been watching lately. "What was the next question?"

Danny looked down at the form. "Would you like to work in an office?" he read. "I said no."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rusty nod. "Good. What's a twelve letter word for tight with money?"

"Parsimonious." he said immediately. "Are you doing an English assignment or a crossword?"

"I'm not sure." The frustration in Rusty's voice sounded familiar.

"Oh yeah, you've got Mr Wishaw this year, haven't you?" He winced internally at the memories.

"Yeah." Rusty did not sound happy.

"Have you - ?" he began, curiously.

Rusty interrupted. "Mind-mapped the entirety of Romeo and Juliet? Oh yeah. Last week."

Ouch. "You should've said. I would have given you my version." He'd had to do the exact same assignment three years ago.

He could feel Rusty staring at him. "Wasn't that the time that you made an argument for Romeo being a child-molester and ended up in detention for a month?"

Danny grinned. Good times. "Yeah."

"No thanks. Some of us have to work to pass English class you know." But Danny could tell that Rusty was smiling too.

**  
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They both continued to work in silence for a while.

"It's not that there's anything wrong with working in an office." Danny felt compelled to say suddenly, returning to their previous topic of conversation.

**  
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Rusty said nothing.

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"I mean, lot's of people work in offices. My mom works in an office. It can't be that bad, right?"

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Rusty still said nothing.

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"You think I'd be bored, don't you?" Which he would be, he was sure, but he felt the need to justify himself anyway. "Can you imagine going to the same place, day in and day out, seeing the same people and doing the same things?" It sounded like hell to him.

**  
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Rusty continued to say nothing.

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Danny sighed. "Yeah, I guess maybe all jobs _are_ like that. Maybe I don't want one at all?"

"What's the alternative?" Rusty asked, at last. But Danny didn't have an answer.

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**Question Six: Would you want a job that required you to use your creativity?  
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Danny sighed, heavily. He was really hating this survey. "Define creativity." he said, annoyed.

"The state or quality of being creative; the ability to transcend traditional ideas, rules, patterns, relationships or the like, and to create meaningful new ideas, forms, methods, interpretations, etc." Rusty said, without looking up. Danny knew without looking that there was an open dictionary beside him.

"Funny." he scowled thoughtfully.

"What's the question?" Rusty asked. Danny told him. "Huh."

"Exactly." Danny agreed.

"Well, do they mean – "

"I have no idea." He paused. "If they mean singing or art or whatever, then that's not me."

"Right." Rusty agreed, a little too quickly for Danny's tastes.

"Hey, I can be artistic. I was in the photography club, remember?" Nearly two years ago, for about two months, but it still counted.

"Firstly, we were only in that club for the darkroom." Rusty began. "And secondly, we were kicked out, remember?"

"We weren't kicked out, we were asked to leave. Politely. And it wasn't because of any lack of artistic talent." It made a difference.

"Right. They just thought we were doing something illegal."

Actually; "I thought we _were_ doing something illegal."

Rusty shook his head. "Surveillance photos aren't illegal. No actual crime was committed. At that point. Or ever, as far as the photography club know."

Oh yeah. He could trust Rusty to know what he was talking about. He glanced back down at the form. "So, assuming they mean creative _thinking_, do we – "

" – you – " Rusty interjected.

Danny ignored him. " - want a job which uses creativity?"

Rusty shrugged. Danny sighed and wrote down 'Only in the sense of creative thinking and planning' and moved on.

**  
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**Question ****eleven: Are you a people person?**

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Danny rolled his eyes. "I hate that phrase." he said turning to Rusty, who was just coming in the door clutching two glasses of soda and a bag of chips that Danny hadn't even known was in the kitchen. His mom had probably hidden it. She kept trying to convince the pair of them to eat healthily.

"What phrase?" Rusty asked, setting one of the glasses down in front of Danny – right on top of the form as it happened. Oh well, considering some of the answers he'd given so far, a couple of wet stains couldn't possibly make it worse.

"'People person'" he answered.

Rusty flopped down on top of the bed, somehow not spilling any soda on his _own_ work. Bastard. "Ah." he said, eloquently, reaching for his books. The chips had mysteriously vanished.

Danny sighed. "It's called sharing, Rus'."

Rusty produced the packet from under a cushion. "They're mine. I found them."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Just lying around, as it were?"

"Exactly."

"In _my_ kitchen." Danny pointed out.

"Property is theft."

"So is stealing. Keep eating like you do, and soon you won't be able to fit into that god-awful shirt."

Rusty looked down at the shirt. There was a long pause. "This was the first new shirt I ever bought." he said, in a small voice. "Don't you like it?" He looked up at Danny, eyes huge, bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly.

Danny swallowed. Things suddenly seemed slightly out of control. "I'm sorry." he said, helplessly. "I didn't mean . . . look, I don't want any chips. Keep them."

"Great." Rusty grinned, immediately brighter, and tore open the packet.

Danny closed his eyes. "Oh for . . . " he groaned. "You have no pride."

"Got plenty of that, actually. I have no shame."

He shook his head. "I hate you."

"No you don't." Rusty said, between mouthfuls.

"I hate that shirt then." he snapped. Rusty just grinned.

**  
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He turned back to scowl at the form for a few moments, but Rusty was actually less annoying.

"It's just one of those stupid phrases that doesn't mean anything in particular, except that the person using it is a moron." he burst out. "I mean, do they want to know if I'm good with people, or if I like people, or what?"

"Uh huh." Danny could tell that Rusty thought he was over-thinking this. But the vagueness of the questionnaire was really annoying him.

"And anyone who describes themselves as a 'people person' is almost certainly into conning people for whatever they can get." he continued.

"You con people. We both do." Rusty pointed out.

Danny shrugged. "Well, yeah, of course. But we wouldn't describe ourselves in a way that makes it sound like we do, would we?"

"The shark swam by like a bored fridge."

Danny blinked. "What?" he asked carefully. He was pretty sure that that had come out of nowhere.

"The shark swam by like a bored fridge." Rusty repeated.

Danny turned round, slightly concerned that his friend might have lost his mind. Rusty was staring at the page in front of him, with an unfamiliar look of complete puzzlement on his face.

"I'm supposed to explain that simile." he said, helplessly.

Danny tried to think of something sensible to say. "Does it have a context?" he asked at last.

"Not so much, no." Rusty sighed.

"It doesn't make sense." Danny said in wonderment.

"Why – "

"Look just don't ask." Danny suggested.

" - would a fridge –"

"There's no answer." he warned.

" – be bored."

"I have no idea." he finished, glumly.

**  
**

They stared at each other for a few moments. "Say that you are a people person." Rusty said finally. "People like you, you like them, and you can talk almost anyone into almost anything. Whatever they mean, you qualify."

That made sense. He scribbled his answer down, then turned back, with a grin. "_Almost_ anyone?"

"I'm immune." Rusty claimed, deadpan.

"Right. Then how come you did my French translations last week." Danny asked, smugly.

Rusty grinned, slightly unnerving Danny. "Oh, that's just 'cause I'm your friend." he said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

He couldn't help but grin back. "So it's not my extraordinary charisma?"

"Nope." Rusty said happily.

"Good to know." And it was.

**  
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**  
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**Question fourteen: Are you happy working outdoors?**

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"That's wrong." Rusty said, leaning over Danny's shoulder, donut in hand. "You should put 'no'."

"I don't have a problem working outdoors." Danny protested.

"Yes you would." Rusty answered, wandering back to lie on the bed.

"We're out every Saturday, feeling up shoppers for pocket money." he pointed out.

"That's outdoors."

"No, that's _outside_." Rusty answered. "Outdoor implies, I don't know - grass. Trees and shit. You know, nature."

"Oh. _Oh_." Danny considered this for a few minutes, then scribbled out his answer. "You're lucky you don't have to worry about this sort of stuff yet."

"Yeah." Rusty answered flatly.

Danny affected not to notice. "All this 'So what are you going to do with your life?' stuff. My uncle actually pointed out that I'm not getting any younger the other week."

"Your uncle Ed?" Rusty sounded hopeful. Probably something to do with the twenty bucks he won off Ed the last time he visited.

"No, uncle Harold. The banker."

Rusty snorted. "He's not getting any younger either."

"No, but his girlfriends sure are." Danny smirked. Then he sighed. "My dad wanted me to go into business with him, you know?" He already knew that Rusty did. "Wanted me to get an MBA then join the company and work my way up. He kept talking about how great it would be to work side by side, father and son. Never asked me what I want."

Rusty stayed silent. Danny didn't look at him.

"Now my mom keeps dropping hints that I should be a lawyer. Saying how great I was in the debate club that time we were involved with the thing with Teddy Norman. Leaving all these college prospectuses open at pre law. She says I'd be good at it."

"You would be." Rusty said, noncommittally.

"That's not the point." Danny ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be a lawyer. I can't think of any job I do want. I mean, we're still young, right? Why can't we just drift along a while longer?"

"You can't think of _any_ job you want to do?" Rusty asked curiously. "Not even the really unrealistic ones?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know . . ." Rusty thought for a few moments. "Movie star?"

"Everyone would recognise you all the time." he objected. "It'd be really difficult to get anything done."

"Astronaut?" Rusty suggested.

"You need to be in the military first." he pointed out. "I couldn't take orders." And he was just a little bit afraid of heights, but that was another matter.

"Ball player?"

Danny grinned. "Too much effort." he admitted. There were plenty of things he was willing to work for. That wasn't one of them.

"Criminal mastermind?"

"Now you're just being silly."

**  
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**Question 18: What are you good at?**

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"What am I good at?" Danny asked aloud.

"Well, according to Jenny Mitchell – " Rusty began, a smirk in his voice.

Danny interrupted hastily. "Where did you hear that?"

"While I was hiding in the girl's locker room." Rusty said, casually

Danny turned round. "Hiding . . . in the girl's locker room?" he asked, slowly.

"Not what you think." Rusty protested. He was blushing ever so slightly. It was kind of cute.

"I'm sure." Danny said, smirking and shaking his head.

"No. Remember two weeks ago, when we were getting that stuff from the lab for Lee, and Dr. Bickerstaffe came back early? I ran distraction – and the guy's faster than he looks."

"So you hid in the girl's locker room." Danny said, still smirking.

"In the air ducts actually, that's just where I ended up."

Danny shook his head. "Only you." he said, wonderingly.

They grinned at each other.

**  
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"I always meant to ask," Danny said, changing the subject, "What did Lee want with that stuff?"

"Science fair project." Rusty said, simply.

"Oh." Danny considered this. "You think we should open a book on the result?"

"First thing Monday." Rusty agreed.

**  
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"By the way," Danny began, hesitantly. "Which one is Jenny Mitchell."

Rusty rolled his eyes. "The blonde one, with the dimples and the big – "

Rusty paused and made a vague gesture. Danny smirked.

" – feet." Rusty finished finally, straight-faced.

**  
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Danny just about had a picture of her in his mind. "And I went with her?"

Rusty nodded. "Couple of times. Two months ago."

"Right." he said thoughtfully. "And what did I say about her?"

Rusty rolled his eyes again. "You said she was nice but she wouldn't stop giggling. Even when you were – "

"Got it." He remembered now. "And she said – "

"Yeah."

"Huh. Kind of flattering." He thought about it for a few minutes. "But I don't think I can put it down on this form."

"No." Rusty agreed. "Mrs. Leitner might take it as a recommendation."

"Ugh." Danny pulled a face. "Not what I was thinking. Or what I wanted to be thinking. Just that it's not something that I can use in a job. So what are we good at?"

"What are _you_ good at. It's your form. It's your life." Suddenly Rusty sounded annoyed, and for the first time in a long while, Danny had no idea why.

**  
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He kept his tone light. "You mean you're not planning on following me around for the rest of my life, keeping me out of trouble and being my social diary?"

Rusty sighed. "Danny – "

He cut in, his voice low and sincere. "Because I was going to do it for you." He knew, as sure as he knew anything, that Rusty could tell he was for real. They'd never learned to lie to each other.

"That's not how the real world works, Danny." Rusty sounded frustrated. He had to get to the bottom of this.

"Tell me." he ordered.

"In a year or so, you're going to go away to college." Rusty began.

Danny interrupted immediately. "We'll still see each other." How could Rusty possibly think otherwise?

"Sure." Rusty agreed readily. "At first. But people change, Danny. You'll . . . we'll grow apart. It just happens. By the time you're twenty, we'll just nod to each other if we pass on the street."

Danny bit back his immediate denial, and tried to imagine a world in which Rusty wasn't the first person he ran to if he was in trouble. When his dad had . . . and he'd burst into Rusty's chemistry exam. And they'd spent the rest of the day, and half the night, hiding on the school roof. A world in which he couldn't trust that if _Rusty_ needed _him, _he wouldn't come over and throw stones at his window at three o'clock in the morning.

"Never going to happen." he said, finally. "Not in a million years."

Rusty smiled crookedly. "Sure, Danny." he said. Danny could hear the quiet disbelief in his voice.

"You're wrong, and you're stuck with me." He said firmly. He was more sure of this than he'd ever been about anything. Why couldn't Rusty see it? "Bet you anything you like."

Rusty laughed slightly, and turned away. "Look, it's not important or anything . . . "

**  
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"_Yes it is_."

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They paused, both startled by the vehemence in Danny's voice.

"I'm serious." Danny continued, in a quieter tone. "I bet you a million dollars that by the time we're . . . " he tried to think of a suitably far off age " . . . by the time we're forty, we'll still be best friends."

"We're different ages." Rusty commented absently.

"Fine. By the time _you're_ forty." That was even further off.

"A million dollars?" He sounded amused.

"Yep. One million dollars." Danny confirmed. He stretched, walked over to the edge of the bed, where Rusty was sitting and held out his hand.

Rusty shook it. "I'll be sure to track you down on my fortieth birthday."

Danny looked him straight in the eyes. "You won't have to." he promised.

**  
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There was a long silence.

**  
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Danny cleared his throat. "So what do you think I should say my weaknesses are?"

Rusty tilted his head back, thoughtfully. "Kryptonite?"

**  
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_**More years later than either of them would care to admit . . .**_

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Even though he was supposed to be watching the doorway, for the last half hour Danny's eyes had been flickering to the clock on the dashboard. He'd been waiting for this for a long time, and it wasn't as if he was the only one pulling surveillance duty. Rusty'd spot anything he missed.

He stole a sideways glance and sighed. Rusty was investigating the bottom of a bag of cookies, looking for stray crumbs. If they messed this up because neither of them was paying attention, they'd never hear the end of it. Saul alone would . . .

Quickly he looked back at the entrance. Nothing was happening. Once again, his gaze drifted back to the clock, just in time to see it click over to midnight. Finally.

**  
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"Happy Birthday, Rus'." He said, now at last able to keep staring straight ahead. "You owe me a million dollars."

He felt Rusty staring at him. "What?"

"Remember that bet we made when we were kids? You said we'd drift apart." he allowed himself to smirk slightly. "You were wrong."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rusty's expression change. Suddenly, Rusty looked vulnerable and . . . lost, chewing on his bottom lip. "You stayed friends with me . . . to win a stupid bet?"

Danny inhaled sharply. "Of course not!" he protested, shocked. "How could you think . . . " he paused suddenly, and shook his head in dawning realisation. "You don't think that at all, do you." he stated, flatly.

Rusty was laughing. "You're too easy Danny."

"And you have no shame."

"I know." Rusty agreed, happily

"I thought we agreed you were going to stop doing that when you hit twenty." Danny said, sternly.

Rusty shrugged. "What works, works."

**  
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They both stared out the windscreen, in comfortable silence for a few moments.

"The money went into your account . . . oh, about a minute and a half ago, now." Rusty said finally, glancing quickly at the clock.

"One million dollars?" Danny asked, surprised. He'd never expected Rusty to actually pay up. It wasn't like the money meant anything to either of them. Of course, he wasn't at all surprised that Rusty knew his bank account details.

"_A_ million dollars, yes. It's not _my_ million dollars. It's just one I found."

Danny grinned. "Sort of lying around, as it were?"

"Exactly." Rusty grinned back. "Remember how we bumped into Toulour at that thing last month?"

Danny blinked. "Oh, you _didn't_."

"Think he'll mind?" Rusty grinned

"Oh, I think he's going to hunt us down and try and make us pay. Again." But Danny couldn't stop laughing.

**  
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After a few more minutes of quiet staring, punctuated by outbursts of giggling, Danny leaned over to Rusty. "Wanna give it another ten minutes, before we call Linus to take over, and go and get your birthday cake?"

Rusty turned, and smiled at him warmly. "Thank you, Danny."

"You haven't tasted it yet." he warned, smiling back.

"Not for the cake." But he'd already known that.

**  
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He might have said something more, but that was when Victor Florentine came out the doorway and all hell broke loose. But that's largely a different story.

* * *

If anyone's interested, that line about 'The shark swam by like a bored fridge' appeared in an English exam when I was fifteen. I had to explain it. That was the lowest level of exam, and the question was only worth one mark. I went on to get straight A's in English in all subsequent school English exams, I'm now educated to an honours degree level. _I still have no idea what that simile means._ It's been bothering me for nearly nine years. 

On a more relevant note, there's deliberately no real indication of exactly how old the boys are. Read what you like.

So, anyway, did you like it?


	2. Walk before you can crawl

**Title: Walk before you can crawl  
Author: otherhawk  
Disclaimer: As should be patently obvious, I don't even own the _title_  
Rating: T  
Pairing: none  
Characters: Danny, Rusty and a surprise guest appearance  
Warning: I feel very strongly that this fic should have a warning. I'm not, however entirely certain what it should be. So . . . beware.**

* * *

"We're talking about Chicago." Danny said thoughtfully. He hadn't quite decided how much of a problem that really was.

Rusty shook his head noncommittally. "There have to be easier ways."

They were leaning against the corridor wall, watching the world go by, only talking when they were absolutely certain no-one was in earshot. Just an average day.

"Of course there are easier ways." Danny shrugged. "If we had contacts . . . " (And if either of them was remotely old enough to be taken seriously by said contacts . . . )"But right now the best we have is Teddy Norman."

Rusty sighed and drummed his heels against the wall. "What, exactly, did Jeff say?" he asked eventually.

Danny looked sideways at him. "Well, leaving out the bits where he said that he wanted nothing to do with any of it, and to never mention his name to anyone in connection with anything, he basically said that his cousin Teddy's roommate had gone to prison, and Teddy was looking to unload his stuff. Including - "

" - a set of lock picks." Rusty didn't look happy. "He's selling his roommate's stuff?"

"Yeah." He hadn't been too impressed with that either. But he _really _didn't want to have to buy hair grips ever again.

Rusty sighed again and looked away as a couple of girls from Danny's class wandered past. Wandered very slowly past. Giggling. For reasons that Danny had never quite understood, every girl in school seemed to find his friendship with Rusty 'too cute for words'.

"So why can't he just mail them to us?" Rusty asked quietly, once the girls had disappeared round the corner.

Shrugging, Danny answered "Apparently he's about as twitchy as Jeff. Thinks that the FBI's intercepting his mail, or something."

Rusty nodded. "But he can't just throw them away – "

" – because he wants the money. Exactly." Danny finished.

They shared a slight grin. It was always nice to know you could rely on a person's greed.

"So how much is he after anyway?" Rusty asked.

Danny smiled easily; this was the good bit. "Twenty dollars." he said casually.

He felt the full weight of Rusty's incredulous stare and watched as his friend leaned his head back against the wall and laughed quietly. Twenty dollars.

"Still." Rusty said slowly. "Chicago."

"Look at it this way." He paused for dramatic effect. "Life's better with lock picks."

Rusty didn't seem too impressed. "Going to put that on a t-shirt?"

"Anyway, the bus fare shouldn't be too hard to scrape together," he pointed out. "And we still have Attwood's cheques from that time. Creepy bastard should be good for a hotel room at least – you still have his signature down, right?" Of course, no hotel in its right mind would let a fifteen-year-old and a twelve-year-old stay unaccompanied, but he had every confidence that they'd find their way round that small point.

Rusty was rubbing at the corner of his mouth. Damn.

"What?" he asked, irritated that he'd missed something.

"Don't you think that your mom would mind if you just vanished for the weekend?" Rusty pointed out.

Shit. She would. And she never _let_ him stay with Rusty, and if he said he was with anyone else, she'd call their parents to check.

"You're not going on your own." he said firmly. That was just a little too horrifying to contemplate.

Rusty blinked, and for a fraction of a second he looked a little scared. Good. "I hadn't thought of that." he said, rather quickly to Danny's mind. "No, we need some unobjectionable reason for you to go to Chicago. Then we can meet up and do the thing."

Danny thought for a long moment. It would require a certain amount of sacrifice, but; "The final for that debate club thing is in Chicago." he said slowly.

Rusty looked sideways at him. "The debate club?"

He shrugged. "It's perfect." he said, almost convincingly. "Except that they already have a full team."

"Well," Rusty said casually. "We might be able to do something about that."

"Yeah." he paused. "Wanna go eat?"

Rusty just looked at him.

"Right. Stupid question" Danny agreed.

They sauntered slowly down the corridor.

"What's Teddy's roommate in the clink for anyway?" Rusty asked randomly.

Danny turned his head slowly. " . . . Did you just say 'clink'?"

"Yes." Rusty said immediately.

" . . . right." He frowned. "Semi-armed robbery."

Rusty looked at him. "_Semi_-armed?"

"Apparently he had the bullets but no gun." He laughed and shook his head.

Rusty scowled thoughtfully. "Sometimes I worry about the modern criminal."

* * *

It had proved surprisingly easy to dislodge one of the original debate team members. As it turned out Steve Marsh had really wanted to be in the school play all along, and the offer of a spot as chief understudy and prompter was enough to make him defect. Lucky for them Mike was a good guy and still owed them from when he'd staged 'And Then There Were None' and they'd 'acquired' all the props he needed. (And that whole slog would have been easier if they'd had a set of lock picks, for a start.)

After that, it was a simple matter of Danny fast-talking his way into the empty spot – especially easy as Mr. Wishaw, the supervisor, loved him. Something to do with an essay on 'Catch 22' and an argument about sledding. Danny couldn't help it if he was brilliant.

The other guys on the team were still a little suspicious of his motives. Reasonably enough, Danny had to admit. Even now, while they were backstage being fussed over by their doting parents, he was aware of being watched. Apparently they were all just a little too smart to believe he was in the club just for kicks. As Julian Meadows shot him a particularly vindictive glance, Danny stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered out into the corridor in search of a more relaxing atmosphere.

So far things were going off without a hitch. He was pretty confident that they'd win – the team had been practicing constantly for three weeks now, and he and Rusty had been spending so much time in the library doing research that Danny was actually beginning to like the place. They couldn't possibly be more prepared – and rather more to the point Rusty had stolen a copy of the opposing team's arguments earlier that day.

"Daniel." He turned round slowly to see his mom bearing down on him. Well, no lucky streak lasted forever. "Oh, for heaven's sake. You haven't even tied your tie yet."

He batted her hands out of the way and stepped back. "I'll do it later, mom."

She looked at him for a long moment, lips pursed. "Just be sure that you do. I won't have people saying my son looks scruffy."

Huh. He had been described as a lot of things. Scruffy had never been one of them. "I said I will."

She smiled at him suddenly and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Daniel. I'm so glad that you're finally spending your time constructively instead of hanging around with that Ryan boy." Danny tensed and did his best not to pull away. "Now, I know you're fond of Robert - "

"His name is Rusty." he said quietly.

She ignored him as she had any number of times in the past. " – But you need to think about your future." Finally she stood back and smiled at him. She didn't seem to notice that his smile was fake.

"Now, I'm going to go and take my seat. So you go out there and win, and maybe I'll finally have something to be proud of."

He watched as she bustled off. "You can come out now." he said, dryly.

Rusty materialised at his shoulder. He had a split lip and a bag of cookies. "I thought she wasn't going to come?"

"Yeah, well, she heard that my dad and Emma were planning on being here, so - " he shrugged, " – suddenly it was time for the supportive-mother bit."

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "Your dad's here too?"

"Nah, he had to work late." 'Again.' he _didn't_ say.

Rusty said nothing but offered him a cookie.

Peanut butter flavoured. And home-baked. Very nice, actually.

"Alice Munroe gave them to me." Rusty said in response to the unspoken question. Then he frowned. "I'm not sure why."

Danny paused in mid-bite and turned to stare, but Rusty appeared to be serious. OK. That might be a conversation for another time.

"Well, well." Great. Julian Meadows had just managed to sneak up on them. "Ocean. Feeling relaxed, are we?"

"Julian." Danny nodded politely. "I am, as it happens."

Julian walked up, his gaze sweeping over them. He seemed to dismiss Rusty as being beneath notice. Not the only one to make that mistake. Danny forced himself to remember that Julian wasn't actually a mark. "It seems to me that the only result of all of this that could possibly be of interest to a degenerate like you is the trip to Chicago, am I correct?"

Danny smiled lazily. Not much point in denying that. "You're very perceptive." he murmured.

Julian stood a little taller. "I'm not like those idiots you normally deal with." he boasted. "Now, I'm willing to make a deal." His eyes took on an unnatural light. "This is my last year to win this competition. I'm going to take that trophy home, do you understand?"

Danny nodded. He was aware of Rusty, grinning beside him. Good thing someone was amused, because it didn't seem like Julian had much of a sense of humour.

"I know you're going to give it your best tonight because we don't win, you don't get your little trip. But here's the thing. You work just as hard when we get to Chicago, and we'll cover for whatever sordid business you've got planned. Do we have an agreement?"

Not that much of a hardship. He'd planned on doing his best in the final anyway – he might not have much in the way of morals, but he had his ethics. "Fine by me." He held his hand out and after a moment, Julian shook it.

"Good." Julian said briskly. "Now I'm going to get ready. I suggest you do the same. And for pity's sake, sort your tie."

They watched him walk off.

"Well." Rusty said eventually. "He seemed – "

" – oh, yeah." Danny groaned.

Rusty frowned. "And also kind of – "

"Completely." He'd had three weeks to observe the guy in close proximity after all.

There was a pause. "I should get back out front." Rusty said suddenly.

Danny nodded. "What did you come back here for anyway?" he asked, curious.

Rusty looked vaguely uncomfortable. "I just wanted . . . " he trailed off.

Now Danny was definitely intrigued. "What?"

Rusty was staring at his sneakers. "I just wanted to say 'good luck'." he mumbled, sounding embarrassed.

"Oh." Danny blinked. They stood awkwardly in silence for a few seconds.

Then Rusty looked up and smiled dazzlingly, straight at him. "Good luck, Danny," he said softly and stepped forwards and fixed Danny's tie.

Danny grinned to himself. Almost show time.

* * *

It was definitely colder in Chicago. Even accepting that it was getting close to winter; well, it just hadn't been this cold back home. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and hoped that Rusty's bus would be on time. Hanging round bus stations wasn't his idea of a good time. In any weather.

Not to mention that if he was going to be one hundred percent honest with himself (a dangerous precedent, but what could you do?) he was a little worried. Obviously he trusted Rusty – more than anyone else in the world if it came to it – but when he'd casually asked if this would be his first time out of the state, Rusty had given him a look and said it would be his first time out of town.

There was a very small voice at the back of Danny's mind that kept yelling that every single part of this plan was insane.

People started pushing their way through the doors towards him. He breathed a sigh of relief; that should be the bus in. He _knew _that Rusty could look after himself, but he was always going to worry. So many things that could happen. And he didn't like splitting up.

"Fred! Cousin Fred!" And that sounded like Rusty. Though why he was suddenly Fred was a bit of a mystery.

He turned and saw Rusty running towards him, closely followed by a sweet-looking old lady. Great. Just . . . great.

To Danny's surprise Rusty threw his arms around him and it took a stunned moment for him to return the hug warmly. Just for appearances, of course, for the sake of whatever Rusty was pulling.

"She was sitting next to me. Wasn't going to leave until she knew someone was here to meet me." Rusty whispered.

Well that was that explained.

Rusty skipped back and started babbling happily. He looked a lot younger than usual. Neat trick, really. "Fred! Guess what! I'm on the soccer team! And Tony said that I was really good, 'cause I scored three goals and he only got one!"

"That's great, kiddo." Hopefully the slight pause when he fell over the name was unnoticeable. He nodded politely to the woman standing behind Rusty. "I hope he didn't cause any trouble." He noted sardonically that the candy wrappers falling out of Rusty's pockets matched the large bag of candy he could see peeking out of the woman's bag. And to think he'd been worried.

"Oh no," she reached out and ruffled Rusty's hair in a way that Danny _knew_ he hated. "Jamie was just adorable. I only wish my grandsons were half as polite."

Danny bit the inside of his mouth. He really had to work at not giggling. "Well, thank you." He turned to Rusty and _just_ managed to resist the temptation to ruffle his hair himself. "Now come on Jamie, we're meeting mom at the café. She said I should buy you a hot chocolate."

"That'll be nice I'm sure. Now, Jamie," She put a hand on Rusty's shoulder, and Danny stopped laughing inside; he knew that Rusty was struggling not to flinch. "You take care of yourself, do you hear me? Oh, and take these." She pulled the sack of candy out of her bag and held it out. Danny watched in amusement as Rusty murmured polite refusals before the bag vanished inside his rucksack. "Since you liked them so."

And then, with a steady stream of "Goodbyes", backward glances and little waves, she was gone.

Rusty immediately started eating the candy.

Danny shook his head in amusement. "The whole 'Stranger Danger' thing just passed right over your head, didn't it?"

"She was nice." Rusty protested.

"Next time, take a book." Danny advised. "Don't just lie to your fellow passengers."

Rusty turned his head to one side. "Are you really going to buy me a hot chocolate?"

"Buy your own, _Jamie._"

Grinning, Rusty started looking round. "Have you seen the ticket desk?"

"We don't need to get a bus right now." Danny pointed out. "The hotel is only six blocks away."

Rusty looked at him like he was an idiot. "They'll be able to tell us what buses we can get to Woodlawn tomorrow."

"Oh. Right." He hadn't really planned that far ahead.

"That's why you keep me around." One of the reasons, anyway.

* * *

It was as they stepped out of the bus station that Danny noticed Rusty shivering.

"Should have worn a coat." he pointed out smugly.

Rusty shrugged awkwardly, and Danny suddenly found himself trying to remember the last time he'd seen Rusty wearing his coat. It had been last winter. And the sleeves had been getting short then.

He sighed. "Well. At least it proves that you've finally grown."

Rusty looked at him. "I'm tall for my age." he remarked, casually.

"But short for your height."

They walked in thoughtful silence for a few steps.

"That made no sense." Rusty said, at the exact same moment as Danny sighed; "I know."

Dismissing the issue, Danny shook his head. "We need to get you a coat."

"It can wait." Rusty said quickly. Pretty obvious that he was worried about money. So was Danny for that matter. It was already going to be tight.

That really, _really_ wasn't the point though. "If you freeze to death, I'll have no-one to talk to."

"Well, as long as you're being selfish about it." Rusty said understandingly.

"So, shall we hit the shops?"

Rusty considered it. "Nah. We should get cash first."

Made sense – they didn't know the security arrangements in the shops here, but getting cash was the same all over.

He looked round carefully but his gaze finally settled on a tall man in a business suit. Perfect.

Rusty caught his eye and smiled slightly. "So she said – " he began loudly, stepping sideways as though ready to go round the man.

"That's right." Danny agreed absently, dodging to the other side. Looked like there was something in the guy's back pocket and inside his jacket.

"And did you tell her?" Danny just saw Rusty make the lift, but only because he'd been looking. At the same time his own hand slipped into the guy's back pocket and grinned mentally as his hand brushed a leather wallet.

It was over in rather less than a second, and when they were well away, Danny leaned in close to Rusty. "Tell her what?" he asked curiously.

"Like I was listening." Rusty paused mid-step and produced a packet of cigarettes. Ah. So that was what the guy kept in his jacket.

"Now those will stunt your growth." he said, mildly disapprovingly, as he watched Rusty light up.

"After spending hours on that bus, I need one." Rusty answered simply.

Danny could sympathise. After the trip up with the debate club he'd had to vanish for a quick smoke himself. Fortunately the travel sick excuse not only got him out of the afternoon's excursion to the Chicago Cultural Centre, it had also given him an excuse to disappear at every rest stop along the way.

Rusty lit a second cigarette and passed it over. "What did you get?"

Danny took a long drag before producing the wallet.

"Ah." Rusty said intelligently.

Leafing through it, Danny raised an eyebrow. "There's got to be a hundred and fifty dollars here. That'll get you a new coat."

"And keep us fed for a week and more." Rusty was grinning happily.

There was a cough behind them. Danny spun round and found himself face to face with the owner of the wallet, who reached out and grabbed the pair of them by the collars.

Well. This was a new experience.

"Boys. You are in serious trouble."

Danny was too busy squirming to pay attention to the man's quiet voice. He twisted, half trying to break free and half-trying to see how Rusty was doing.

Shit. Rusty wasn't even trying to get free. For a moment Danny thought that he'd simply frozen, but then he saw the blankness in Rusty's eyes. And he was still clutching the lit cigarette and he was staring at the hand on his shoulder and Danny couldn't see a single way in which that could end well.

"Let go of him. Now." Danny demanded, with hell of a lot more assurance than he felt.

To his complete astonishment the guy let both of them go, with an approving look at Danny and a concerned glance at Rusty. Damn. Normally people weren't that perceptive.

Thinking quickly, Danny faked a stumble and reached a hand out to Rusty to steady himself. He squeezed Rusty's left forearm gently, hoping desperately that Rusty would understand his silent question; 'Are you with me?'

He was relieved when Rusty stood up straight, and calmly said "So I suppose you want your wallet back, huh?"

The man looked amused. "For a start."

Danny handed it over; wishing that he'd thought to take the cash out immediately.

"Thanks." the guy said dryly. He stood staring at them for a few moments and Danny wished he could think of something to do. If they ran now, one of them would probably be able to get away, but there was the problem right there.

"So what now?" he asked. "Are we all going out for pizza or what?"

The guy looked somewhat amused. "My name's Robert Caldwell. You can call me Bobby." He waited, expectantly.

Something told Danny that this wasn't a good time to spin a line. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rusty nod almost imperceptibly. "I'm Danny Ocean and this is Rusty Ryan."

"Well, Danny – Rusty – " he nodded at them in turn, "I have some things I'd like to discuss with you."

"We were always told never to talk to strangers." Rusty said cheerfully. Danny took a moment out from worrying to shoot him a glare.

"Don't worry, I'm a father myself." That wasn't all that reassuring, but the way that Bobby's eyes lit up as he continued _was_. "Got a new son. Three weeks old. Want to see a picture?"

Danny and Rusty exchanged an incredulous glance. "Uh, sure." Danny said hesitantly.

Bobby pulled a stack of photos out of his wallet. "See?" he proclaimed proudly.

They looked. To Danny all the pictures seemed to show was a baby from a variety of angles. "He's cute." he said, sincerity dripping from every word. It was the sort of thing he'd heard his mom say to his cousin last month.

"He has your jaw." Rusty commented. Danny looked at him sharply then studied the pictures closer. Huh. He could just about see that, actually.

"His name's Linus." Bobby was actually smiling now, and it was difficult to see how he'd ever looked remotely intimidating.

"Good name." Danny said with a disarming grin.

"We thought so." Bobby put away the photos and his expression turned serious. "Now. I wanted to talk to you about that little lift you just made."

This conversation was seeming less and less likely to end up with 'So we're going to the police.' "What about it?" he asked.

"Don't get me wrong. You're good. You've got a lot of potential. But you aren't quite as good as you think you are."

Danny blinked; this conversation was definitely heading in a weird direction.

"You're a thief." Rusty stated, and Danny found himself nodding. It was the only thing that made sense.

"Among other things." Bobby said, slightly evasively.

"So," Danny took a deep breath. "How did you spot us?"

"First of all, your double-team bit is good. You must have been working it for a while."

"Few years." Rusty said casually.

"But you," he turned to Danny, "Need to work on not watching your partner's hands when he makes the lift, and you," he turned to Rusty, "Need to stop telegraphing with your shoulder. You turn your whole body just before you reach. And both of you need to learn to be more subtle when you're sizing up your mark."

Danny took a moment to consider. Made a lot of sense, really. "So what can we do about it?"

"You need practice. If you got a couple of hours, I'd be willing to give you a few tips."

Sounded good to Danny, but he turned to Rusty, just in case. "So what - ?"

Rusty nodded. "Could be – "

"On the other hand – " Danny frowned, but Rusty quickly shook his head.

"Don't think so."

OK, then. He turned back to Bobby. "We're in."

Bobby looked from one to the other, seeming confused. "Do you two always do that?"

"Do what?" they asked in unison.

Bobby shook his head. "Never mind."

* * *

They spent the next couple of hours practicing picking pockets; first on Bobby and on each other, and then – once Bobby gave his approval - on unsuspecting members of the public. Afterwards, Bobby actually did take them out for pizza. It was all a little strange.

"So, you got a place to stay?" Bobby asked, as they'd been preparing to leave.

"Yeah." Danny nodded. Technically, they weren't sure if the plan for Rusty to check into the hotel was going to work, but no matter how nice Bobby had been so far, well, it was a little early to be trusting him.

"And it's safe?" Bobby was staring at them intently.

Danny suddenly realised that Bobby didn't necessarily know that they weren't in Chicago permanently. They'd kept all conversation purposefully vague. Fortunately Rusty saved him the trouble of answering. "It's good."

"Good." Bobby seemed to relax. He reached into his wallet. "Here. Take these." He handed them a business card each. "You ever need me for anything, call me. I mean that. Anything at all." He looked at them sternly and Danny suddenly found himself envying Bobby's kid.

He nodded quickly. "Thank you." he managed.

Bobby looked at his watch and swore. "Sorry. Molly's going to kill me. Now, you two take care. And I _will_ see you around."

"We will." Danny promised.

"And thanks." Rusty added.

* * *

They walked to the hotel in silence. On the whole, it was shaping up to be an interesting sort of day.

Just outside the door Rusty froze, his hand in the pocket of his new coat. "Huh."

Danny looked round; that had sounded serious. "What?"

Rusty pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket. "I'd say about a hundred and fifty dollars."

Bobby's one hundred and fifty dollars. "Huh. And you didn't - ?"

" - Of course not." Rusty interrupted indignantly. Danny hadn't seriously thought it for a second.

"We had money." he pointed out. "He watched us getting money."

He watched Rusty's jaw clench. "I don't like – "

"- I know." Come to that, he wasn't too happy about it either. On the other hand; "We were happy enough to steal it in the first place."

Rusty looked at him like he was insane. "So we should just – "

" – Can you think of anything else we can do?" he demanded.

Sighing heavily, Rusty shook his head. "I don't like it."

Well. They were pretty much going to have to put up with it. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing at the hotel.

Rusty nodded, and ducked inside. Danny counted to thirty in his head, then followed.

He joined the queue at the front desk immediately behind Rusty, who once again was looking very young, and was staring constantly at the door as though waiting for someone, the cheque clutched in his outstretched hand. Oh, he was good.

As Rusty reached the desk, Danny contrived to look like he wasn't eavesdropping. Not exactly difficult.

"Can I help you, son?"

Rusty appeared to stare desperately at the door one last time. "Uh, my dad, he uh, asked me to give you this." He handed the cheque to the amused-looking concierge. "And to say . . . uh, to say . . ." Danny could just picture his face – wide-eyed, biting his lip, clearly panicked. "To-say-that-we-gotta-reservation-under-Attwood." he finished in a rush.

"A reservation under Attwood?" She looked at the book in front of her. "Yes, I've got that here, and there's no problem with the cheque, but I really need to speak to your father."

There was a slight pause. "He's outside arguing with the driver. He asked me to . . . he'll be real mad at me." That voice was so small that it broke _Danny's_ heart. And he _knew_ that Rusty was an unprincipled, unscrupulous liar.

The concierge had no such defence. "Well, all right. Just this once. Here's the key. Give it to your father and tell him that he'll need to come and sign the book."

"Thank you, thank you." Rusty chirped happily. Then he turned and ran towards the door, as if he'd seen someone. "Dad!"

Danny stepped up to the desk, before the concierge could realise that there was no-one there. "Excuse me," he smiled. "I wonder if you could help me. I'm in room 618, and the phone doesn't seem to be working." Which, of course, was because calling-out had been disabled at Mr. Wishaw's request, and he was about to endure yet another lecture on the subject, but that wasn't the point.

The point was, that they'd just successfully scammed their way into a hotel. Now there was something to be proud of.

* * *

Sleep was difficult. And not just because Timothy was snoring at roughly the same volume and pitch as a chainsaw, though that definitely didn't help. The unfamiliar surroundings – the unfamiliar people – were unnerving. It wasn't just that he wasn't used to sharing a room with three – relative – strangers, though every time anyone moved, or a bed squeaked, he spent five minutes trying to figure out exactly who it was, and if they were awake, or if they were sneaking out of bed. It was actually pretty exhausting. And still he was awake, staring at the ceiling, and pondering exactly how many things could go wrong tomorrow.

It was after he caught himself wondering what would happen if it turned out that Teddy Norman really was under surveillance by the FBI that he finally figured that enough was enough. He grabbed his coat, shuffled into a pair of shoes and headed towards the door.

"Danny?" he froze; that was clearly Roger's voice, even if it was just a whisper. "Where are you going?"

Turning round, he could just make out Roger sitting up in bed. "Just stepping outside. I'll be back before morning." he whispered back. "Don't worry; I'm not leaving the hotel."

Roger nodded in the near-darkness, and lay back down. Well, that was surprisingly easy. He slipped out of the door and padded downstairs to Rusty's room.

Feeling somewhat silly, he knocked on the door and waited. It was a couple of minutes until it opened a crack.

"Yeah?" Rusty's voice.

"'S me."

The door swung open completely, just in time for him to see Rusty walking back into the room. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, over his shoulder.

"Timothy snores." he answered, closing the door behind him. The room looked about the same size as his, but there were only two beds, and a TV was blaring out some sitcom that Danny didn't recognise. "Hey, there's no TV upstairs."

Rusty shrugged, and flopped onto one of the beds. "You get what you pay for."

"We're not paying for anything." Danny pointed out. He was about to lie down on the other bed, when he noticed that the blanket was all twisted up, the mattress was crooked, and half the pillows were on the floor. Turning to Rusty, he raised an eyebrow.

"Figured that both beds should look slept in." Rusty answered, without looking at Danny.

Danny picked up the pillows and said nothing.

"I might have got a little carried away." Rusty admitted after a minute.

Danny shook his head, made himself comfortable on the bed, and settled in to watch TV.

"Want some M&Ms?" Rusty offered, after ten minutes or so of silence. "Got them out the mini bar."

That bore closer investigation. He glanced inside the mini bar. As he might have predicted, nearly everything except the alcohol had gone. (And that was something of a relief. No matter how little the age gap might mean to them, well, twelve seemed a little too young to be drinking to Danny.) "Isn't all that stuff really expensive?"

Rusty sat up, looking a little surprised. "There was no price list . . . "

"I'm pretty sure I remember hearing that prices in hotel mini bars are daylight robbery."

"Well, I guess we weren't planning on paying anyway." Rusty pointed out, lying back down.

Fair point. Danny grabbed the last can of Dr. Pepper and a Snickers bar and returned to the bed and TV watching.

"Mind if I turn it off?" Rusty yawned, when the program was done.

"Sure." Danny could barely keep his eyes open. Seemed likely that sleep would be a lot easier to come by now.

* * *

Sneaking out of the thing had been surprisingly easy. It was being held in a school, so all he had to do was wait until Mr. Wishaw was distracted by one of the stalls, and duck out of another door. He could rely on the debate team swearing blind all day that they'd seen him just a moment ago, and that he'd run off to look at the presentation on Old English, or whatever. Provided of course, that he showed up at the last-minute rehearsal at five. Otherwise, he was toast.

Getting back into town was also pretty simple – thanks mainly to Rusty having taken the time to write down half the bus timetables in Chicago.

And finding Rusty had been _really_ easy, as he was exactly where he'd said he'd be – in the window booth of the café next to the hotel, sitting behind a giant mug of . . . well, it appeared to be a giant mug of whipped cream and marshmallows, but Danny was prepared to believe that there was some hot chocolate or something buried underneath it. Probably.

No, the difficult bit had come after they got off the bus in Woodlawn and discovered that their map didn't quite seem to match up with the streets.

"Maybe down that way?" Danny suggested, after around half an hour of fruitless wandering.

"We've been down there already." Rusty didn't take his eyes off the map.

Danny squinted thoughtfully. "You sure?" It didn't look that familiar. But then, nothing did.

"We came up it, then we went down there," he pointed at a different street, "then we came up there – "

" – And now we're lost."

"More temporarily misplaced."

"Lost." Danny said firmly.

Rusty handed the map over. "Want a shot?"

"Sure." At this stage it couldn't do any harm. He stared at the map for several minutes, but couldn't make any more sense of it than Rusty. He sighed. "I think we might need to swallow our pride and ask for directions."

"Yeah."

After looking round, Danny stepped out in front of a woman pushing a stroller. "Excuse me." He began politely.

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you know where Marquette Street is?" Rusty asked with a smile.

"Let me think, now." They waited. "Oh yes, it's just down there." She pointed down the street that Danny had indicated in the first place.

"Thank you ma'am." She smiled vaguely at them and walked off.

Danny turned to Rusty with a smirk. "You know – "

"Yep." Rusty said flatly.

"I'm just saying – " He tried again, but Rusty cut him off.

"We had been down there before. We must just have missed it."

Yeah, that was probably true. But all the same; "I told you so."

After that, finding the place was pretty easy and they waited on the door while Teddy Norman tried to figure out if they were a threat or not.

"Come inside." he said finally. "Quickly."

The hall was cramped and smelt of damp. Teddy didn't seem inclined to invite them any further into the house. "Are you sure you weren't followed."

"We were careful." Danny replied seriously.

Teddy looked them over sharply. "I was expecting somebody older." he said suspiciously. "Who's behind you?"

"Nobody." Danny was caught off guard.

"We're an independent operation." Rusty put in.

That seemed to satisfy Teddy for the moment. "Have you got the money?"

"Have you got the lock picks?" Danny countered.

"Whoah, whoah!" Teddy yelled, unexpectedly. "Are you crazy? Don't ever say that. Merchandise. Ask about merchandise."

Danny resisted the urge to meet Rusty's eyes. Keeping a straight face was already hard enough. "OK. Have you got the merchandise?"

"Just a minute." Teddy vanished into one of the other rooms, and Danny bit his lip and looked at Rusty, who gave a half-shrug. Yeah. That was pretty much Danny's opinion too.

"Here they are." Teddy reappeared, clutching a small leather case, which he opened to show a gleaming set of lock picks. Beautiful. "Now. You got the money?"

Rusty pulled a couple of notes out of his pocket. "Twenty dollars, as agreed."

Teddy's eyes narrowed. "I'm changing the agreement. Fifty."

The little shit. Fifty dollars was still less than they'd be willing to pay, but there was a principle involved here. "Twenty-two." he offered.

"Forty-five." Great. If the asshole was going down in fives, that would make it easier.

"Twenty-four fifty." Rusty cut in. Brilliantly, in Danny's opinion.

Teddy blinked. "Forty?" He was sounding a little confused. Probably expected them to haggle in round numbers.

"Twenty-seven dollars and thirty eight cents." Danny countered.

"Thirty." Hah!

They _both_ said "Done." just before Teddy realised his mistake and said "No, wait thirty-five."

"Nice doing business with you." Rusty said casually as he added another note to the pile and handed it over to the glowering Teddy. Danny was examining the lock picks carefully. This was going make life easier. And much more fun.

After they got outside, Rusty turned to him with a knowing smirk. "So," he began. "You should be getting back to the thing, right?"

He probably should. There was always the chance, however unlikely, that Mr. Wishaw would figure out he was gone. Still. He smiled. "We've got time to see the sights."

To his amusement, Rusty pulled a guidebook out of his pocket. "That's what I figured."

* * *

He honestly just couldn't resist. It was an astonishingly bad idea – he had no idea what he'd say if he was caught – but picking the door to Rusty's hotel room seemed so much cooler than just knocking.

This time he hadn't even tried to sleep; he'd just waited until the other three had dozed off before he snuck downstairs. They hadn't discussed it; but in all probability Rusty was expecting him.

Or not, he thought, as the lock finally 'clicked' and the door swung open. The TV was on full-blast again, and Rusty was bouncing on the bed. He was facing the wall, so he hadn't seen Danny yet.

Choking back a laugh, and keeping his face blank, Danny coughed politely. He had to admit, he was a little amused as Rusty spun round – in mid-air, no less – lost his footing and fell to the floor between the beds, out of Danny's view.

Danny stepped into the room and closed the door firmly behind him. "You just fell off the bed." he stated, unnecessarily.

"I noticed, thanks." Rusty's muffled voice came from floor-level, a second before he stood up and dusted himself off, self-consciously. "The lock picks work fine, then."

"Best thirty dollars we ever spent." Danny grinned.

There was a knock at the door. That wasn't good.

He glanced at Rusty. "Room service?" he asked quietly.

Rusty shook his head. "Too risky." Yeah, they probably would have noticed that there was no-one in the room but Rusty.

The knocking came again. "Ocean. I know you're there. Open the door.

Rusty frowned "Isn't that – "

"Julian Meadows. Yeah." Really not good.

Not seeing much of a choice, Danny opened the door. "Yeah?"

To Danny's slight surprise, Julian wasn't still clutching his trophy – the guy had barely let go of it all evening. He stepped aside and let Julian push his way into the room, where he immediately stopped and stared, open-mouthed at Rusty.

"Julian." Danny prompted, figuring that the best thing to do was to act like nothing was wrong. "What do you want?"

"He's here." Julian turned back to Danny.

"Yeah." Danny waited for something more.

"He can't be here. What the hell are you thinking, Ocean? I mean, Jesus! You can't just drag your little sidekick to Chicago! Do his parents even know where he is?"

Sidekick. Right. Danny made a mental note to screw Julian over the next chance he got. "What did you want, Julian?" he asked again.

Julian shook his head slowly. "Look, I've been thinking – and this only makes me more certain. I need to tell someone what you've been doing."

Shit. "We had a deal." he said, far calmer than he felt.

"I know." To his credit, Julian did look slightly ashamed. "But I should never have agreed. You can't go wandering around a strange city without supervision. And you certainly can't leave a _child _to stay by himself. Anything could happen. Can't you see that?"

Danny opened his mouth to point out that – whatever their actual age – neither of them were children, but Rusty stepped forward.

"You're pretty into all this debate team stuff, aren't you Julian." Rusty said, lazily. "It _is_ all right if I call you Julian, isn't it?"

Julian nodded stiffly, apparently waiting to see where Rusty was going with this. Danny was pretty curious himself.

"Now, by my understanding, your participation is dependent on academic results, right? So, if – just for example – it was found out that someone had copied their English exam off of Unity Freeman, well, that would be a problem, wouldn't it?"

Oh, this was good. "They'd flunk English. Be booted off the team." he put in, ostensibly talking to Rusty.

"Do you think they'd have to give their nice, shiny trophy back?" Rusty asked thoughtfully.

Danny smiled – or at least showed his teeth – staring at Julian. "Anything's possible."

"This is blackmail." Julian whispered hoarsely.

"Right." Danny agreed. "Is it working?"

Julian glared at the floor. "I don't have a choice. I'll keep my mouth shut." To Danny, he seemed to be telling the truth, but he glanced at Rusty for a second opinion. An infinitesimal smile. Right. They were probably safe then.

"I'll see you in the morning, Julian." Danny said, firmly sweeping the other boy to the door. He left without any more fuss.

Once the door closed, they both collapsed on the nearest bed.

"Still." Rusty began, after a couple of minutes. "It's been fun, right?"

Danny closed his eyes and smiled. "We should do it again sometime."

"I've always wanted to go to Disneyland." Rusty said thoughtfully.

Why not?

* * *

**Wasn't that long? If you don't mind, please review.**


	3. The lies we live

**So, this is part 3 of my young Danny and Rusty story and I still don't own anything connected with Ocean's 11.**

**For those who might be interested, the chronology goes something like this – **

**Chapter 2 Walk before you can crawl – Danny is fifteen, Rusty is twelve**

**Chapter 1 The more things change – set set nine months later **

**Chapter 3 The lies we live – set approximately a year after the more things change.**

**

* * *

**

He wasn't _worried_ – not yet anyway. A little concerned, perhaps, but definitely not worried. After all, they hadn't made any definite plans – except that they almost always met here at recess. Casually he scanned the crowds of students. Rusty still wasn't there. Silently drumming his fingers against the wall beside him, he considered his options. In all probability Rusty would turn up in a few minutes. He'd probably been kept late after class, or got a line on some business for them or something. That's what he'd assume normally. Except the way their life had been going for the past six weeks, any change to their unofficial routine was unlikely to be anything so straightforward.

"He was escorted to the nurse's office before first period." said a voice behind him. Danny turned round to see Mike from the year above standing there. He didn't bother asking how he'd known who Danny was looking for. As much as he hated the idea of being predictable, some things really couldn't be helped.

Besides, there were far more important concerns right now. "How'd he look?" He managed to keep his voice neutral. He was getting really good at that.

"Like he got hit by a truck. But then, when doesn't he these days?"

Mike was looking at him, and Danny had no idea what he was expecting. He _was_ right though. God, what a mess.

He nodded jerkily. "Thanks."

As he walked off, Mike called after him. "Danny!"

He half-turned back. "What?"

But Mike just shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

* * *

Sneaking into the nurse's office was child's play, though admittedly he waited until after the next class had gone in, providing enough noise to cover him. The nurse was almost certainly next door, in the main admin office, drinking coffee and gossiping with the secretaries. That was how she spent most of her time, whether she had a patient or not. Still, he was cautious opening the door, just in case, but there was only one person in the room.

Rusty was lying on the bed furthest from the door, knees drawn up to his chest, icepack clamped to the side of his face. He turned his head when Danny came in, and smiled broadly. With the amount of dark purple bruises Danny could see covering his face, he had trouble believing that even _that_ didn't hurt.

As he crossed the room, Rusty sat up and swung his legs off the bed, making room for Danny to kneel on the bed beside him and take the icepack out of his unresisting fingers. It had melted quite a bit. As usual, Rusty tilted his head back, letting him see the worst of the damage. It was a little stupid maybe, but he was oddly grateful for that. It helped to think that he could do_ something_.

There were bruises all the way down the side of Rusty's face. Looked like they continued under his sweater too. On the plus side, the way he'd bounced up, suggested there wasn't anything too serious. But he was wearing long sleeves, which in this weather probably meant . . . he used his free hand to pull up Rusty's shirt sleeve. Rusty rolled his eyes but said nothing. There was a dark, hand-print shaped bruise on Rusty's forearm. Like he'd been grabbed roughly to stop him from getting away. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but judging by the reassuring smile that came his way he'd been something less than successful. Still. Anyone else would probably have thought he didn't care in the slightest. Wasn't in the least bit consumed by an all-encompassing rage. Fooling Rusty was always going to be just a little bit impossible. And he honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Placing the melting icepack firmly on Rusty's arm for the younger boy to hold in place, he headed to the small freezer in the corner of the room to get another for his face.

There was only left. Damn. Danny couldn't help but wonder at exactly what point a school nurse became negligent. Still, he retrieved it and sat back beside Rusty, leaning in close and pressing the ice to his cheek.

"That's cold." Rusty complained immediately.

"It's supposed to be." Danny told him, matter-of-factly.

"Just because you got top marks in that first aid class." Rusty grumbled.

Danny didn't bother answering. They both knew exactly why he'd studied so hard for that, and it wasn't in order to practice the kiss of life with Ami Sato, fun as that had been.

"So what's the story today?" he asked instead.

Rusty shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Danny's. "I told them I'd fallen off my skateboard. Dropped enough hints to let them think I'd really been in a fight outside of school."

"Didn't you use that one last month?" he asked, frowning.

"They know I live in a rough neighbourhood." Rusty didn't sound concerned, so Danny assumed that the teachers had eaten the story up with their usual, tutting disapproval.

"You could always tell the truth." he suggested, keeping his voice light.

"I made my decision." Rusty sounded tired, and he knew he shouldn't push it. But it had been a long time since he last asked.

"You could change your mind."

"But I haven't." And Rusty's tone was final and Danny knew the topic was closed.

"Concussion?" he asked instead.

Rusty shook his head slightly, dislodging Danny's hand and the icepack momentarily. "Nah. Little bit dizzy when I stand up, but that's it."

That was hardly surprising. "They give you anything?"

Another head shake.

"You told them that it didn't hurt that bad." he concluded, rolling his eyes.

"How do you know I was lying?" Rusty smirked slightly.

Danny just looked at him.

"Joking." Rusty muttered. "There's some painkillers in my bag. I took a couple before I got on the bus."

Danny looked at his watch. "You probably shouldn't take any more just yet."

"Uh huh." OK. So he'd already figured that.

There was a pause. "Danny?" Rusty began finally, staring at the floor in front of him.

"Yeah?" he asked cautiously.

"You really think they'd believe me?"

He closed his eyes, and thought about last time, and about six weeks ago. He almost wished he could lie. "No. I don't."

They fell silent. He casually leaned his arm on Rusty's shoulder, as if he was just trying to hold the ice pack in a better position. Equally casually Rusty turned and leaned back into him, as if he was too tired to sit up straight. At least they had their stories worked out if anyone asked. But for the moment, it was comfortable.

The instant they heard footsteps outside the door, they both sat up straight and exchanged a long look. No point in Danny trying to sneak out now. They'd need to bluff their way through it.

The nurse stepped into the room and stopped dead the moment she saw him. She was probably a little surprised. "Good morning, Mrs. Rosenthal." he said, smoothly.

He had to hand it to her, she recovered pretty well. "Mr. Ocean. I should have known.

Yeah. To be perfectly honest, she probably should have. He smiled sweetly at her. "I just had to check if my friend was all right."

She looked from him to Rusty and back again. "Yes, well. He's fine." He worked hard to keep his face expressionless, wondering exactly what definition of 'fine' they were working with here. "And you should be in class."

"Oh, I have a free period right now." he lied effortlessly. "And when I got here and realised you'd slipped out for a moment I knew that I should stay with Rusty. Because he shouldn't be left alone when he has a head injury, right?" He blinked innocently at her.

She glared at him, uncertainly. "I see. Well, I suppose there's no harm done. And I am very busy . . . I'll write you a pass for your next class."

"Thank you, ma'am." he said, his voice low and sincere.

Her cheeks were tinged with pink as she turned to face Rusty. "Now, how are you young man?"

"I'm fine." Rusty answered. Danny rolled his eyes behind her back.

"Well, perhaps your friend will convince you to avoid any more 'skateboard accidents'" Her tone was archly knowing, and it took a great deal of effort for Danny not to start yelling. She didn't know. She _didn't know_. And morons were to be taken advantage of, not blamed.

"I'm working on avoiding them." Rusty promised, and Danny would be the only one to hear the irony in his voice.

"I'm afraid we haven't been able to reach your father yet." she continued, "and you'll need to stay here until we do."

Danny nearly laughed out loud. The idea of Rusty being sent home with his dad was . . . something less than acceptable. In fact it was completely and utterly fucking insane and he wasn't about to let it happen.

He aimed a puzzled frown at Rusty. "But your dad's out of town. You were going to stay at mine, remember?" He let his expression shift to one of anxiety – not that hard a reach in the circumstances. "Did you maybe hit your head harder than you thought?"

Rusty blinked at him, and for a second Danny was worried that maybe he really _was_ hurt worse than they'd thought if he wasn't picking up on the story. But then Rusty blinked again. "I forgot." he said voice muzzy, turning to the nurse. "That's okay, isn't it?"

"Well," she hesitated, "I'd need to talk to both your parents, make sure that's all right with them."

"Not a problem." Danny said briskly. "If you haven't managed to get hold of them by the end of the day I'll get my mom to call you."

She nodded, apparently satisfied with the plan. That was good, because Danny was fresh out of ideas. "I'll keep trying your dad's work, Robert. See if I can find a contact number. Keep that icepack on your head. And make sure you go to your next class, Daniel."

"I will." he lied, as she left the room. "Huh."

Rusty frowned at him. "If she calls your mom - "

Danny shook his head. "She's out of the country for a couple of weeks. I was going to ask if you wanted to stay at mine anyway."

There was a pause. "For two weeks?" Rusty asked finally.

"Uh huh." Danny smiled. "Just us."

Rusty lay back on the bed. "Sounds nice."

It did. Two weeks where they could rest, lick their wounds and make plans without fear of parental reprisal. It sounded too good to believe, and Danny resolutely ignored the nagging thought that something was wrong with the whole picture.

"Still," Rusty went on. "She said she needs to talk to – "

"I'll take care of it." Danny cut in.

Rusty chewed his lip. "Are you sure – " He sounded exhausted and Danny just didn't want him to worry anymore.

"Rus'." That got his attention. "I promise." Just this once, he asked silently, let me take care of it – of you - on my own.

There was a barely perceptible pause. "OK." He yawned and added sleepily "Mike's got art right now."

Well, at least they were both thinking along the same lines. That was always reassuring. And he was glad he wasn't going to have to try too hard to track Mike down, though he did wonder whether Rusty had everyone's timetable memorised or just the ones that he thought they might need.

He glanced at his watch; if he hurried he'd be outside the classroom before the bell rang. "You just rest, okay? I'll be back later." He grabbed the icepack from where it had been abandoned at the side of the bed. "And keep that on your face."

Replacing the icepack, Rusty rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Danny paused in the doorway, feeling a strange reluctance to leave. "I'll be back later." he repeated.

Rusty looked at him seriously. "I know."

* * *

He got to the art department just in time to see class get out. Great. With a sigh he waited beside the door. Naturally Mike and his friends were the last ones out of the room.

He cleared his throat and they turned to look at him. "Mike? We need a favour."

One of the boys with him – a new kid, Danny thought, or at least not anyone he recognised – sneered. "We? Kid, I only see one of you."

David elbowed the new boy in the ribs. "Shut up, that's Danny Ocean." he muttered quietly

The boy frowned. "So?"

"So that means 'we' is him and Rusty Ryan, and trust me. School's a lot easier if those guys like you." David was still talking softly, and Danny had to wonder if he thought he couldn't hear him.

Their reputation never ceased to amuse Danny. He couldn't even remember doing anything in particular for David – he wasn't one of the guys who'd signed up to their test paper service. They'd never even busted him out of detention.

Seemed that the new boy had heard some stories though, because he shut up pretty quickly. Huh. He should really keep an ear to the ground and check out what the current batch of rumours actually _were_. Just in case there was anything particularly libellous, or more importantly, anything particularly funny.

He kept his eyes fixed on Mike. "We need a favour." he repeated. "Please."

Mike looked slightly uncomfortable. "I have drama next." he said apologetically.

Danny nodded, thoughtfully. That did make things a little more complicated. Mike would always happily cut any other class, but he needed drama. He wanted to be an actor, and from where Danny was sitting he had a good chance of making it. The guy had talents. And that was why they needed him.

"Do this and we're even." he said, and then considered. "Do this and we'll owe you." Now that wasn't something he'd had to say often.

Mike frowned suddenly, and with a quick glance at his friends, took a step closer to Danny. "Is this to do with what we were talking about this morning?" he asked quietly.

Danny nodded.

"Then I'll do it anyway, Danny. You know that."

He smiled, relieved. "I'll get you a pass for drama." he promised.

As they walked away he heard the new kid ask "He can do that?"

"Dude." David replied. "They can do anything."

Yeah. He really, _really_ needed to check what stories were being told. He had a nasty suspicion that Rusty had been adding to them again.

* * *

Fortunately Mike had a car, so they were able to get to Danny's house in no time at all.

"Are you sure your mom won't come in?" Mike asked, looking round the living room nervously.

"Positive." Danny replied, following the cord to find the phone, his mind already on exactly how they were going to do this. "I overheard her on the phone last night. She's gone to the Seychelles with some guy named Harry."

There was silence. Danny looked up, phone in hand, to find Mike staring at him with an odd expression. Oh. Right. He should have said that his mom had _told_ him she was going away. After six weeks he was a little too used to the silent treatment.

"Danny – " Mike began, frowning.

"Don't." he interrupted, and forced a smile. "Let's just do this, okay?"

Mike nodded slowly and Danny handed him the phone. "How exactly does he sound?" Mike asked.

"Sort of like Rusty, except older obviously, and his voice is deeper and sort of . . . coarser." And he normally sounded a hell of a lot drunker, but that didn't seem like it would be helpful right now.

"Like this?" Mike tried, sounding completely unlike himself.

Danny considered. "Make it a little more throaty." he advised.

Mike nodded. "How about now?"

"Too much." he said quickly.

"So, more like this maybe?"

Okay. That was seriously weird. "Perfect." he grinned.

Mike nodded again and licked his lips nervously. "You got the number?"

Danny handed it over and watched him dial. "Don't use big words."

The school apparently answered fairly quickly. "Oh, hello." Mike said in Rusty's dad's voice. "This is Robert Ryan. I was told you've been trying to call me?"

There was a pause.

"I see . . . is he all right?" Danny frowned; there was far too much concern in Mike's voice to sound remotely believable to him. But then, he supposed that if the school knew how little Robert Ryan Senior cared about his son they might be inclined to do something. Or, more likely, they wouldn't. At any rate it probably wouldn't sound suspicious to them the way it did to him.

"I see." Mike repeated. "Well, I'm out of town right now. He was supposed to be staying with his friend Danny . . . Daniel Ocean? Yeah." Another pause. "Nah, it's all fixed up with his mother."

There was a longer pause, and Danny wished that he could hear the other side of the conversation.

"Yeah, okay, got that. Yeah . . . yes, I'll let you know next time." Thank you. Bye."

Mike hung up and turned to Danny. "They'd like it if Mr. Ryan told them the next time Rusty's supposed to be staying with you. Apparently it's important that they know what you're doing at all times."

Danny grinned. "I don't think that they could handle that information, do you?"

The phone rang. Danny raised his eyebrows. "My turn." He picked it up. "Hello, Thomas Ocean speaking." he said, pitching his voice lower than normal.

"Good day, could I speak to Mrs. Barbara Ocean please?" He recognised the nurse's voice.

"I'm afraid my aunt's not here right now, could I possibly help?" he said, smoothly.

"Well, this is Anne Rosenthal calling from Douglas Grey High School – "

"Danny's school?" he interrupted, putting a note of concern in his voice. "Has something happened? Is he all right?"

She paused. "I really need to speak to Mrs. Ocean."

Danny rolled his eyes; honestly, if he really was a concerned relative he'd be going frantic right now. "Check your file." he instructed. "I'm down as an alternate contact."

"Just a moment." He heard paper rustling. "Oh, great. That's fine Mr. Ocean. Please don't worry, there's no problem with Danny. I was just phoning to confirm that Danny's friend, Robert Ryan, was going to be staying with him?"

"Rusty? Yeah, he's staying at my aunt's while his dad's working out of town." He paused for a fraction of a second "Why?"

"Well, unfortunately, Robert came to school with some injuries – "

"Is it bad?" he asked immediately. "What happened?"

"He's fairly badly bruised. A skateboard accident, apparently." He decided, as Thomas, to ignore the scepticism in her voice. Mostly because he was pretty certain that he'd end up screaming at her. "At any rate we don't feel comfortable with him staying at school for the rest of the day, so we'd be grateful if someone could come and pick him up?"

"I'll be there as soon as possible." he promised. "Thanks for letting me know. Goodbye."

He hung up as she said "Goodbye."

"So what now?" Mike asked archly. "Do I put on a wig and pretend to be Thomas?"

Not a completely ridiculous idea; they might keep it for another occasion. "No, we go back to school, I get your pass out my locker, you go back to class, me and Rusty sneak out and then we get a phonecall and Thomas apologises for not knowing the proper procedures and taking a kid out of school without alerting the office."

"The real Thomas?" Mike asked uncertainly.

Danny blinked. "There is no real Thomas. We made him up."

"Right." Mike still looked confused. Oh well.

After Danny's dad had died he'd been asked to update his emergency contacts sheet – which he'd done by adding a fake cousin, thinking he would come in handy. And he had. They kept meaning to do the same to Rusty's file, but they just hadn't got around to it. The next time they were in the office, he promised himself. It would have made this whole deal much easier if they hadn't had to get Mike involved.

Mike was looking at him strangely again. "Danny. Can I ask you something?" he said, hesitantly.

Figuring that Mike had thought of a way to take advantage of the whole 'we owe you' deal, Danny shrugged. "Sure."

"And you won't laugh, or anything?" Mike persisted.

Danny raised an eyebrow, wondering just what sort of favour Mike was after. "Of course not."

"It's just . . . " Mike spread his arms helplessly. "I'm worried about you." he blurted out. "Both of you."

Well, that was unexpected. "Yeah." he answered flippantly. "Join the club. That brings it up to a grand total of three of us."

Mike pretty much ignored him. "Things have been getting worse, right? I mean the last month or so, Rusty's _always_ beat up, you're both _always_ exhausted and you're charging for things you normally do for free. Tommy Owen said you charged him thirty dollars to get him out of those detentions."

Danny frowned. "Too steep do you think?" he asked, seriously. "He paid it."

Mike shrugged. "Hey, if he wanted his Saturdays free he shouldn't have superglued the staff restrooms. That's not the point." He paused.

"So . . . ?" Danny prompted.

Mike squared his shoulders. "You've got a plan, right?" Danny had never heard him sound so serious. "You're going to fix this."

He hesitated, unsure of what to say. Mike was a friend, one of the good guys – trustable – but . . .

"I don't need to know the details." Mike said, seemingly responding to his uncertainty. "Just tell me that you know what you're doing. And promise me you'll ask if you need my help."

"We asked you today." he pointed out, trying to buy some time to deal with this.

"Danny." Obviously it wasn't going to be successful.

"Yeah." he said, not looking at Mike. "We've got a plan. Kind of a long-term deal. But everything's going to get better." It was. No matter what they had to do to make it happen.

Mike looked immensely relieved, and Danny wondered how it was that people were that worried about them. "Good. It's just . . . I've known you for a long time."

"Yeah." That was true. He could remember playing over at Mike's house when he was in second grade.

"And Rusty's _always_ – "

"Yeah." he repeated, unwilling to face the end of that sentence. Rusty _always_ looked like he'd lost a fight with a man twenty-five years older and a hundred pounds heavier.

There was an awkward silence.

"I went to Mr. Attwood a couple of years back you know." Mike said conversationally. "About Rusty."

"What did that stupid bastard say?" Danny asked with genuine curiosity.

Mike looked slightly startled at the description. Still, it was accurate. "Uh, he offered me a lollipop and told me that we could never understand another person's situation, that all families are different and we shouldn't be judgemental and that some kids are so desperate for attention that they make stuff up."

Yeah. Definitely a stupid bastard. He shrugged. "Rusty does make stuff up." he offered.

"The pair of you are complete liars." Mike agreed cheerfully. "But Rusty's really good at avoiding attention."

Danny smiled slightly but said nothing.

Mike took a deep breath, obviously having worked his way round to what he'd really wanted to say. "Seriously – why hasn't Rusty ever said anything? Why haven't you?"

Danny closed his eyes for a long moment and tried hard not to laugh. Or cry. "What in the world makes you think we haven't?" he asked at last.

* * *

Later, surrounded by pizza boxes and watching the late-night Creature Feature with Rusty, Danny thought about what Mike had said.

"Mike's worried about us." he began, finally.

"We should do something nice for him." Rusty said, not taking his eyes from the screen where a dozen incredibly fake-looking tentacles were pulling a scantily clad swimmer to certain doom.

"Yeah." Danny agreed. "But the thing is, he's got a point."

"We already knew that." Rusty said calmly.

"Your face though . . . " The swelling had gone down a lot, but Rusty still looked like one of the victims in one of those anti-drink driving ads. "And it was the same last week. And the week before. Wait . . . " Danny was suddenly distracted by the sight of a woman in a lab coat running through the woods. "Who's that?"

"The beautiful female scientist." Rusty answered immediately.

"Oh." Danny considered for a moment. "I thought she died."

"That's what you were supposed to think." Rusty explained, without looking round. "Turns out it was her identical twin sister."

"Oh." Danny said again.

They watched the movie.

"It's just like when my mom left." Rusty said, after a few minutes had gone by. "It'll get better in a couple of weeks, once he moves past the blaming me stage."

"You mean he'll go back to only hitting you if he notices you." Danny said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Rusty paused. "Are you going to eat that last piece of pizza?"

"Go ahead." Danny nudged the box closer with his foot.

"You know how good I've got at not being noticed." Rusty leaned forwards and grabbed the piece of pizza and Danny caught another glimpse of the fading bootprint on his side. That had been from last week.

They sat in silence as Rusty finished the pizza and the thing with the tentacles ravaged Miami Beach.

"Anyway," Rusty said, licking the last of the crumbs from his fingers. "It's only for another year."

Danny leaned back and said nothing, wondering how well he could cope with another year of coming to school every day hoping that his best friend had survived the night in one piece. If Rusty was wrong – if things didn't go back to his fucked-up definition of normal – well. They would have to change the plan.

"Danny. It is only for another year. Right?" There was just the hint of a panicked edge to Rusty's voice and Danny turned round sharply. They looked at each other in silence for a beat and Rusty seemed to relax. "I thought you might have changed your mind." he explained, almost apologetically.

Danny shook his head, honestly puzzled. That was just never going to happen. It wasn't just about - they were going to save both of them. "Rus' – "

" - I know." He smiled and then winced and touched his lip. "Ow."

Danny sighed. "Just try and remember. Okay?" He reached round the side of the sofa and passed Rusty the painkillers and a fresh bottle of coke.

Rusty didn't say anything; just took the pills and turned back to the movie. Danny watched him for a couple of seconds.

"_We're not just going to survive,"_ he promised silently. "_We're going to _live

He turned back to the TV just in time to see the monster devour its latest victim. He blinked. "Did she just _roll_ into that thing's mouth?"

"Uh huh." Rusty agreed, seemingly transfixed. "Hell of a way to commit suicide."

Danny shook his head. "We have got to start watching movies with an actual budget."

Everything was going to be fine.

He would make sure of it.

**

* * *

**

**So, what did you think? Once again, ffnet is messing with my formatting. Stupid ffnet. **


	4. Remember the first time

**OK people - this story is set approximately eighteen months before 'Walk before you can Crawl'**

**The timeline therefore goes like this: **

**'Remember the first time' - Danny is 13, Rusty 11**

**'Walk before you can crawl' - the thing in Chicago. 18 months later. **

**'The more things change' - the thing with the career survey. A year later. **

**'The lies we live' - the thing with the nurse's office and Mike - 6 months after that. **

* * *

The football team had approached them when they'd been hanging around the back of the school, smoking. Well, actually _he'd _been smoking, Danny had just been watching him with a blank expression that Rusty would swear he secretly practiced in front of the mirror. They hadn't had even a round-about conversation about his new-found habit yet; but somehow he suspected it was only a matter of time.

Things had been . . . odd, since he came back from Care. They'd been being so careful. Normal. Sticking to playing ball and hanging around the arcade like the other kids in school did. They hadn't even been spending their Saturdays picking pockets. All in all, life had been pretty boring, and he knew that Danny was feeling as restless as he was.

At any rate they hadn't been doing anything especially important when half the football team had marched round the corner and surrounded them in a loose semi-circle. He'd been aware of Danny tensing beside him. They could be in serious trouble here; they were all in the year above Danny and the smallest of these guys was about a head taller than him and forty pounds heavier. But he couldn't think of anything they could possibly have done to piss the team off. He risked a quick sideways glance at Danny. Great. Neither of them knew what was going on.

The Captain of the football team – David Bannerman, commonly known as The Hulk, cleared his throat. "My little brother said that you got his BB gun back off Hutchins."

They both nodded. The Hulk's little brother Tommy was in Rusty's class and it had been really easy to lift the confiscated toy off the janitor. Still, unless David had a seriously weird relationship with his little brother, this probably wasn't heading anywhere dangerous.

"And we heard about what you did to Norris Carrol. Doug Fletcher was there." Jake Price chimed in. Everyone had heard about that one it seemed, though Rusty was pretty certain that Doug Fletcher had been nowhere near the place. People said that bullies only responded to force, but apparently complete humiliation worked just as well.

Danny was grinning, he could tell without looking. "So you're after a favour." he said, apparently deciding to move the conversation on.

The Hulk squared his shoulders. "There was a history test last week. Tarrant says we cheated. She says she's going to stop us playing in the match against Hill Street next week unless we can pass the make-up test."

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "Can she do that?" he asked.

"Coach says yes." Jake shrugged

"We need to pass the test." The Hulk was frowning. "All of us."

There were a hundred ways he could have told Danny 'no' without the others even realising, but he chose not to. He could tell by the way Danny was leaning ever so slightly towards them that he was interested. And yeah, Rusty was too. This could be just what they needed. So he smiled a little when Danny said, casually "We can maybe do something for you. We'll look into it."

The Hulk frowned again. "That's it?"

"Friday." Danny promised. "We'll let you know."

"How did you cheat the first time anyway?" Rusty asked. It was important. They had to know how these guys had been caught so they could prevent a repeat performance.

There was an awkward silence, broken only by the sounds of the football team shuffling their feet. "We didn't" Jake said finally, staring at the ground.

Ah. Right.

"You need to help us though." The Hulk said frowning, possibly having not followed the rest of the conversation. "It's _Hill Street_." Possibly something of their indifference showed on their faces, because he frowned harder. "It's important. Team spirit and loyalty and stuff."

Rusty avoided saying anything with an effort. They couldn't have team spirit for a team they weren't part of, and their loyalties were unbreakable. Besides, they'd already said yes. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "It'll cost you."

Danny nodded beside him. "Five dollars each. On delivery." Obviously he hadn't cared much for the loyalty bit either.

Most of the football team nodded. Jake was staring at Rusty though. "You smoke?" he asked, in an awe-struck tone.

Everything they'd done and _that_ was what was impressive. He looked down at the cigarette in his hand. "Uh huh."

"Can . . . can I try?"

Rusty grinned. "It's really bad for you." He could feel the full weight of Danny's blank expression directed at him.

"Please." Jake begged.

Rusty grinned wider and passed the cigarette over. Jake inhaled, burst out coughing and passed it back.

Danny stood up a little straighter and did that thing – some trick of personality, or charisma, or something – and suddenly everyone's attention was focussed on him. "Friday." he repeated. "We'll get back to you."

And the football team, surprisingly capable of recognising a dismissal, hesitantly turned and drifted off.

When they were definitely out of earshot. Danny turned to face him. "What do you think?"

"Well," he shrugged, "They cheated."

"No kidding. We need to find out – "

" – Mike or Jeff." he suggested, naming two boys who were in that class and might know what had gone on.

"Or Gina." Danny suggested dreamily.

Rusty nodded, slightly unhappily. Danny got weird around Gina. "You talk to them, I'll check out Mrs. Tarrant." he suggested.

"Sure thing." By Danny's smirk he knew exactly what Rusty was thinking. "Meet you in – "

" – you're buying." Rusty said hastily. Served him right.

* * *

They had been coming to Mabel's diner for three years now. It was almost always quiet, no-one hassled them, and Mabel made some of the best food Rusty had ever tasted.

Thankfully Danny had always been understanding about things and waited until he had finished his second piece of pie before trying to attract his attention.

"So," Danny began. "Gina reckons that they must have gone in with the answers somehow."

Risky trick. "They wrote – "

" - same wording even." Danny confirmed.

Well, they'd need to be cleverer than that. Shouldn't be difficult. "The make-up test is on Monday." That hadn't been difficult to find out; it had been written on the board in the history classroom. The football team would have known by tomorrow. It did make things more complicated though.

"We'll need to move fast." Danny commented. "Is it written?"

He nodded. "Locked in her desk." Finding that out had just been good luck. He'd been loitering around the classroom and had heard Mrs. Tarrant and the football coach arguing. She'd been gesturing wildly and had hit the desk. Neither of them had paid him the slightest bit of attention. Not that that was unusual. Since . . . since they'd been told he was an attention-seeking liar the teachers had seemed to form a conspiracy not to even look at him. It came in handy.

Mabel came over with a tray and took their empty plates. "Now, can I get you boys anything else? 'Nother piece of pie, Rusty? Or I get some fresh-baked chocolate cake?"

He smiled; the other thing he really liked about Mabel's was her special offers. Buy a main course and she gave you as much dessert as you could eat – for free. "Maybe a slice of cake. Thanks Mabel. And another coke?"

"Cup of coffee here please, Mabel." Danny said. Mabel looked surprised, and as she walked away Rusty raised an eyebrow. Since when did Danny drink coffee?

Danny shrugged and looked faintly embarrassed.

Rusty laughed slightly and leaned back. Well, there was a first time for everything after all.

Mabel was back with their order in a matter of minutes and Rusty watched in amusement as Danny took a sip of his coffee, pulled a face, and started stirring in milk and sugar. "Be easiest to just get a hold of a copy of that paper." he said when he'd succeeded in creating a drinkable balance.

Rusty shook his head. "Tarrant never leaves her classroom. You know that." It was true. There were at least a half-dozen rumours circling as to why. They were all nonsense and he should know. He'd started three of them.

"She doesn't sleep there." Danny said deliberately and it was a moment before he got it.

"You want to break into the school?" he asked, incredulously.

"Why not?" Danny smiled. "Tell me you don't think it would be fun."

He grinned and shook his head. Of course it would be fun.

"Tell me you don't think we could do it." Danny persisted.

Well of course they could do it.

"Then what's the problem?" Danny finished, persuasively.

Rusty had already moved on to 'how?' "We should take a look tonight." There might be more security than they could see in the daytime.

Danny frowned slightly. "We'll need to – "

" – Take a ball or something." No-one would look twice at a couple of kids playing, even if it was later than they should be out.

"So, my place then?" Rusty pretended not to notice the reluctance in Danny's voice, just as Danny was pretending not to feel it.

* * *

There were two cars in the driveway. Obviously both Danny's parents were home. Damn.

They heard the yelling before they had even sneaked in the door. It was coming from the living room so without saying a word, they headed upstairs as fast as possible. Unfortunately they were never going to be able to be fast enough to avoid hearing.

" _. . . staying out all night. You think I don't know? What sort of example is that for your son?"_

"My _son? Hell, princess, let's share the embarrassment. He's your son too."_

"_That's right, blame everything on me! Come on, let's hear what a bad wife and mother I am."_

"_You're a selfish bitch, you know that? And that boy is turning out just the same."_

There was a crash of glass. Someone had thrown something. Rusty winced, gently pulled Danny into the bedroom and made sure to shut the door tightly closed behind them, effectively muffling the din. He knew that Danny's parents had never laid a finger on him, but still he worried. In his experience angry words always led somewhere, and Danny didn't deserve that.

He squeezed Danny's arm gently before letting go, but he said nothing and Danny shot him a grateful look.

"Think the ball's under the bed." Danny said.

Rusty nodded and scrambled down to take a look. "You need to clean under here." he commented, trying not to sneeze.

"I'll get right on that." Danny said dryly. He paused. "They're getting worse."

Rusty, having finally caught sight of both the ball he was looking for, and a spider he definitely wasn't, made a noise that might have been soothing and was certainly non-committal.

"I think, maybe they're going to split up." Danny went on.

Ball in hand, Rusty wriggled backwards out from under the bed and flipped over to look up at Danny. "How do you – "

" – I don't know."

He could see where it was difficult. At least the yelling would stop. Nothing in his own experience was remotely helpful. Yeah, his parents could probably be said to have technically split up, but it wasn't the same. "Doug Fletcher's parents are divorced." he offered. "He says it's okay."

"That's just because he gets two sets of Christmas presents." Danny answered immediately.

Rusty grinned, acknowledging the point. "Catch." He threw the ball upwards and Danny managed to _just_ catch it by his fingertips. He got to his feet, wishing he could say something like 'It'll be all right', but they didn't lie to each other. He wondered if it would make a difference if he reminded Danny that he'd be there for as long as Danny needed him. "Danny – " he began, slightly uncertainly.

" – I know." Danny actually smiled. "Believe me, I know."

He grinned and opened the door. The yelling had apparently moved into the hallway so he closed it again quickly. "Window?" he invited.

"Don't mind if I do." Danny opened the window and carefully climbed out.

There was a tree that grew right up beside Danny's house, that was really easy to climb down. It made things easier; they'd had to put a series of pitons under _his_ window.

* * *

It was strange seeing the school dark. They'd killed a couple of hours in the arcade and had been playing catch in the street outside the school ever since.

There was a trick to it, like most things. They had to make enough noise that they were obviously playing rather than lurking, but not so much that anyone was going to complain or even notice them too much.

It was about half eleven now and there'd been no sign of a night watchman or anything. One less thing to worry about. He caught Danny's eyes as he threw the ball across. "Think we're all right?" he asked, in a low voice.

"Uh huh." Danny agreed as he threw the ball back.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. "Curtain twitcher at number two." he said quietly.

Danny didn't look in the last bit surprised. "And number 14."

Rusty dropped the ball and casually turned round as he picked it up. Danny was right of course; he just caught sight of the old lady in the window, watching him. He looked down the street a little way. There was a place where the street curved inwards and there were no streetlights. It was between the two risky houses. Could work. "Blind spot?" he suggested.

Danny followed his gaze. "Perfect."

They grinned at each other and Rusty tried hard not to actually start giggling. He couldn't believe that they were really planning on doing this.

"Want to get a closer look at the door?" Danny asked.

Rusty nodded and threw the ball over.

"Go out for a long one." Danny said loudly.

Keeping an eye on the school behind him, Rusty ran backwards. Just there should do it. "Okay!" he yelled back. Probably no-one was listening, but it was better to be careful. Within reason, obviously.

The ball went sailing over his head and over the wall, and he turned just in time to see it go rolling neatly up to the school door. "Now look what you've done!" It took a little more effort than he would have liked to make himself sound exasperated rather than impressed or envious. He couldn't throw a ball like that, no matter how often Danny showed him.

"Sorry," Danny said, sounding sheepish. "I thought you were going to catch it."

Rusty started to scramble up the wall. "How tall do you think I am?" he asked, and then turned sharply to Danny, who was right behind him. "Don't answer that." he added in a more normal tone of voice.

Danny laughed quietly.

They managed to scale the wall and jump down the other side with no more than scraped hands. And if they could do it here and now, they'd be able to do it further down tomorrow.

Having retrieved the ball, Danny started to throw it against the wall, while Rusty checked the locks. Most of them they'd seen a hundred times before, but the gate was shut with a length of chain and a large padlock. Nothing that looked like it would give them any trouble. And there was no sign of an alarm either.

He glanced back at Danny and nodded. Danny smiled and they started to walk back across the playground, occasionally passing the ball, just in case someone was looking.

"Do you have a flashlight?" Rusty asked, the thought occurring suddenly.

Danny shook his head. "We'll need to get a couple."

"And we need more hairgrips." he added, and watched Danny's face fall. Danny always found buying hairgrips really difficult. Rusty would never understand why it had never occurred to Danny to just shoplift them, but as long as he found Danny's embarrassment amusing, he wasn't going to suggest it.

It had been a few years ago that he'd read in a book that it was possible to pick a lock with a hairgrip or a paperclip, and he'd immediately told Danny that they were going to learn how. Danny had never asked why, though Rusty suspected he'd probably figured it out. When he'd been younger his parents had used to lock him in the flat whenever they went away. He hadn't liked it that much.

Suddenly Danny threw him the ball and took off running. "Race you!" he yelled.

Rusty blinked and started running. Fairly obviously, he was going to lose. He grinned, and in his best panicked tone hissed. "Look out! A cop!"

Danny immediately slowed and looked round wildly and Rusty sprinted past and threw himself up the wall. "I win!" he cheered.

"You little cheat!" Danny shouted after him, doubled up with laughter.

* * *

The next day he couldn't stop yawning, and by lunchtime, after he'd nodded off twice during art, he was ready to ditch the entire afternoon. Danny, though in better shape than him, was more than agreeable, and so they wandered off and spent the rest of the afternoon lazing around at Danny's, talking about nothing.

He'd slept over at Danny's last night, and would be doing the same tonight. The tree was as easy to climb up as down, whereas he just wasn't big enough or strong enough to pull himself up from the fire escape into his bedroom window. So he'd have had to sneak in the front door and, well, he only did that when there was no other option. He'd been caught out a few times too often.

He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed, shuffling a deck of cards semi-idly. Danny's uncle Ed had taught them how to play poker a couple of months back (Apparently he'd thought it was funny. Danny's mother had been less amused) and something about it had intrigued him.

Danny was sitting at his desk, swinging on a chair, flipping a flashlight on and off endlessly.

"You're going to waste the batteries." Rusty told him absently and dealt out a couple of hands.

"They last longer than that." Danny objected.

Rusty frowned at the Three of Diamonds. Not what he'd been looking for. "Fine, but I'm taking spares."

"You a boy scout now?" Danny asked, swinging dangerously further back in his chair.

Reshuffling the deck and starting over, Rusty looked up. "I'm not the one with the uniform in my closet." he pointed out sweetly.

Danny coloured slightly. "Mom made me." he said quickly, before apparently realising that that really didn't sound any better. "Anyway, you know how long that lasted."

Two weeks, bar the shouting. And the uniform had come in handy a couple of times since. "Is it wrong to impersonate a scout?" he pondered aloud.

"Probably." Danny sighed. "Nearly everything even halfway fun seems to be."

A sudden knocking at the door made them both jump, and a second later Danny's mother walked in. "Danny . . . " she began, then she noticed him. "Oh, good afternoon, Robert."

He wished she wouldn't call him that. It made him uncomfortable. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Ocean." he said politely and with a smile that he didn't bother trying to make ingratiating. She was never going to like him.

Ignoring him, she turned back to Danny. "I just came in to tell you that I'm going to be busy in the study tonight and don't wish to be disturbed. Your father is . . . working late, again, so if you could find your own dinner? There's plenty in the fridge. And if Robert wants to stay for dinner, that's fine too."

She must be in a good mood. That had been almost gracious.

"Rusty's staying over tonight." Danny told her straight-forwardly.

Her expression didn't change. "As long as you don't make too much noise and stay out of my way."

"We will." Danny promised, and Rusty nodded.

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow." She walked out and Danny visibly relaxed. Rusty knew how he felt.

He leaned his head back against the comforter and closed his eyes.

"We should get some sleep." Danny commented.

"Food first." Rusty insisted. Then he opened his eyes and absent-mindedly dealt himself a Royal Flush. Well. That was the first time _that_ had worked.

He grinned and looked up. Danny was staring at him incredulously. "Do that again." he demanded.

His grin widened. "Food first." he repeated.

Danny threw a cushion at him and the cards scattered all over the floor.

* * *

"I still think we should be wearing masks." Danny muttered.

Rusty, working on the padlock, tongue between his teeth, said nothing. If Danny wanted to dress up like the Lone Ranger that was his own look-out.

"It's not the Zorro thing," Danny insisted. "Just to hide who we are."

The lock finally turned and Rusty swung the gate open and moved on to the door.

Danny followed him in and closed the gate over behind them. "Yeah, okay, so if they see us we're already in trouble."

Exactly. He bent down and started fiddling with the lock. This one should be easier.

"But maybe something like the stocking-over-the-head look."

"I think that's just for bank robberies." Rusty pointed out, just as the lock clicked open.

"Okay. We'll do that next." Danny said, apparently seriously.

Rusty grinned and tried the door - which completely failed to open. His heart in his throat, he turned to Danny who smiled and pointed upwards.

Ah. Another lock. Just above his line of sight.

With as much dignity as he could muster he stepped aside and passed the pack of hairgrips over to Danny who was doing a fairly good job of not laughing.

It only took a couple of moments for Danny to get the last lock, and they stepped inside the dark building. Okay. The school by torchlight was a little spooky. There were definitely more shadows than he was expecting, and he wasn't completely convinced that theirs were the only ones moving. He exchanged a long look with Danny.

"Is it just me," Danny began hesitantly, "or does this remind you –"

" – that was just a movie." he said, not quite as certainly as he would have liked.

They walked down the corridor a little closer together than they normally would have, and he wasn't the only one peering into dark corners.

He noticed that Danny was humming under his breath as they turned into the history corridor. It took him a moment to place the tune. Mission Impossible. He glanced sideways. Danny was watching him. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Rusty smiled slightly and joined in on the loud bit.

Mrs. Tarrant's room wasn't locked. Even better it turned out that she really _didn't_ sleep in there.

"Spare key?" Danny asked, finally stopping singing.

"On top of the blackboard." Rusty told him.

Danny frowned. "We're going to need to stand on the desk." he observed.

"You're taller." Rusty said immediately.

Danny just looked at him.

"I'll hold it steady." he offered.

Danny sighed but helped him move the desk.

"Take your shoes off first." he advised. Footprints on the wood could make this a little difficult to explain.

That was definitely a glare, but Danny did as he suggested. The sight of Danny wearing socks and standing on the desk did a lot to dispel the whole Mission Impossible feel.

"Catch." Danny said as he threw the key down.

"Thanks. Put your shoes back on."

Danny made a rude gesture at him as he clambered down.

Rusty grinned at him. "Shall we?" he gestured at the desk.

"Go for it." Danny said, leaning over his shoulder.

Reverently he unlocked the desk. The test paper was sitting right on the top. He looked over at Danny. They were in business.

"Okay, then." Time to get copying.

It took about half an hour for them to both write out the paper and check each other's work. To be honest, it was pretty boring.

Rusty stretched. "Feels like being in school." he complained.

Danny looked sideways at him. "We _are_ in school."

"Oh yeah." He'd actually kind of forgotten that.

"We done?" Danny asked.

He nodded.

"Then it's your turn to climb on the furniture." Danny said, smiling cheerfully.

They spent the next half hour or so making sure there was no sign anyone had been anywhere near the place – everything was back where it should be, and they locked all the doors and the gate with the Janitor's set of master keys. Of course, that left them on the outside of the school with a set of keys they had absolutely no business having, but that was only a small problem. They'd go in early tomorrow and leave them somewhere they'd be easily found. The only consequence should be that Hutchins would get a bit of a reputation for being absent-minded. A careless janitor was far more believable than the truth anyway.

As soon as they dropped down from the wall, Rusty reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Once again he could feel Danny looking at him. He closed his eyes as he took the first drag, and waited.

"Why?" Danny asked, calmly.

He opened his eyes and considered it for a moment. "It makes me feel better." he answered, honestly.

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Can I have one?"

"No!" he snapped automatically. He remembered how he'd given one to Jake, and felt like a hypocrite. "They're bad for you." he muttered.

Danny watched him until he had to look away.

* * *

The football team had gone away more than happy with their copies of the test paper. And so they should be. It had taken them ages to write out six copies.

Danny counted out the money. "Fifteen dollars for you, and fifteen for me." He smiled. "There's a fair in town this weekend."

Well then, they'd have fun spending it. "Easy come, easy go." Though they'd undoubtedly be able to pick up more money at the fair. People didn't tend to be too careful with their wallets at that kind of thing.

He lit a cigarette and Danny calmly reached over and took one out of the packet.

"My choice." he said, in response to Rusty's look. He lit it with an ease that told Rusty exactly how closely he'd been being watched. Then he coughed.

"It gets easier." Rusty told him.

Danny leaned back against the wall. "When?"

He shrugged.

Just then, Jeff Thomson came round the corner, with a nervous expression on his face. "I hear you can get test papers . . . ?"

* * *

**So, congratulations on reaching the end of this. You know, if you review there's a special prize. OK, I admit it, that was a lie. Sorry. **


	5. Four day interlude

**Short chapter set just before 'Remember the first time' - making it the earliest chronologically thus far. **

* * *

Rusty came back from the Care Home with a nicotine habit, an unshakeable reputation as a liar and a _need_ to be able to make people like him and then forget about him the moment he left their sight.

After talking to his class teacher, the principal, the school councillor Mr. Atwood, two doctors, five social workers and three police officers – Danny, silent at his shoulder all the way – they'd taken him to a Group Home on the edge of town. It was a tall, grey building, with a couple of dozen brightly painted rooms and a large, tree-filled garden.

On the first night, Miss Stevens smiled at him when he arrived, made him a sandwich and gave him several sets of nearly-new clothes that were almost in his size. While he ate she took a look at the cuts on the back of his head, and reapplied the antiseptic that the doctor had given him. Then she took him upstairs to a large room where three other boys – all a little older than him – were sleeping. Or, from when the door opened, pretending to sleep.

One of them sat up as soon as Miss Stevens had wished him goodnight in a whisper and closed the door behind her. "Hey, kid." he hissed. "What are you in for?"

He climbed into bed and tried to think of an answer.

"Jesus, Greg," the oldest of the boys cut in. "Don't ask him that. He just got here."

"Just wanted to know." Greg muttered apologetically. "Sorry."

The oldest boy turned to face him. "What's your name, kid? I'm Jerry, that's Randy over there, and the idiot in the corner is Greg."

"Rusty." he said, smiling. He leaned forwards and looked at each of them in turn. "So, what's it like here?"

The other boys exchanged glances. "It's okay, I guess." Greg said finally. "Three meals a day, and Stevens is a real soft touch."

That, he'd already figured. "What is there to do for fun?"

He lay back and listened to them, as they launched into a rambling explanation of ballgames, movie nights, and daytrips to the beach, or the arcade. Eventually he fell asleep.

The first day he spent going over the house and grounds, making certain he knew every inch. He made sure he went exploring with some of the others; apart from the local knowledge, he needed to appear to fit in. In between checking out the doors and windows, the unused rooms and the wall around the garden (Too high to get over without injury, he'd only risk it if he absolutely had to.) he listened to the other kids and watched them. Greg liked anyone who laughed at his jokes, Marie could tolerate most things as long as you didn't look at her too hard, Jerry mostly wanted to talk about basketball, and Randy would probably follow you into hell if you showed a bit of interest in his opinions.

By the time they were choosing up teams for soccer that afternoon, Rusty was first to be picked.

On the second night he found it more difficult to sleep, so after the other boys' breathing evened out he decided to go for a walk.

The door was locked.

Suddenly he really needed to get out of that room.

Kneeling down, he was able to see that the key was in the lock on the other side, so he fetched a pencil and a piece of paper, carefully pushed the paper under the door, knocked the key down with the pencil and drew the paper – with the key on it – back through to his side.

He unlocked the door and sneaked out into the hallway where it was a little easier to breathe. With no real idea where he was going, he headed downstairs.

Just as his hand was on the front door, one of the care-workers – Bruno – stepped up behind him.

"And where are we going?" he asked, genially.

Rusty turned round slowly. "Just needed some air." he said, watching Bruno carefully.

"Well, you should be in bed." Bruno said briskly. "Come on, I'll take you back upstairs." He reached out a hand and Rusty automatically dodged sideways and put himself out of reach. Just the sort of stupid, instinctive reaction that Danny would cover for him.

Bruno took a step backwards and put his hands up. "Come on." he repeated, sadly. "I'll take you back to bed."

Rusty nodded and obediently followed him back upstairs. It would be useless to do anything else.

At the door, Bruno paused. "This should have been locked." he muttered and looked around. "And there's no sign of the key. _Someone's_ in trouble."

The key in Rusty's pocket was heavy, but he said nothing.

Bruno pulled a key out of the door opposite. "Old house." he explained, catching sight of Rusty's puzzled expression. "Most of the locks are the same. Now come on, off to bed with you."

The room felt smaller to him than it had before, but without any real choice, he did as he was told.

On the second day, he planned to go and meet Danny in town. It was, after all, the last weekend before the end of Spring Break, and the streets would be filled with careless shoppers. And more than that, he had to know what Danny thought about everything.

It never occurred to him that he wouldn't be allowed to go, but when he asked the other kids they looked at him like he was crazy, and when he went to see Miss Stevens she sighed, and pushed her glasses further up her nose.

"I can't let you go wandering around the city on your own, Rusty. I know you've not been used to all this, but you're only ten years old. It isn't safe. You need to be looked after."

"I'm nearly eleven." he said, flatly.

She sighed again, then seemed to brighten up. "There is a bit of good news. I've been on the telephone all morning, and from Monday you'll be starting your new school."

"New school?" He blinked.

She nodded. "Yes, of course. You'll be going to school with the other children. Won't that be nice?"

He looked down for a long moment, and when he looked back up, he appeared to be on the brink of tears. "Can't . . . can't I just carry on going to my old school?"

"Oh, Rusty." She smiled softly. "You'll be fine. You'll make lots of new friends. Just look at how well you've settled in here."

He nodded as though she'd helped and left her office.

The rest of the day he spent eyeing the walls and trying to figure out if a broken arm or leg would really be _that_ bad, and when Joe offered him a cigarette and said it would help he accepted without hesitation.

The third night he spent staring out of the window and working his way through the pack of cigarettes he'd lifted off Bruno.

On the third day it was raining, so they were all kept inside. He played snap with Greg, Jerry and Randy for a while, but he had to walk away when the urge to cheat got too strong.

So he was on his own, curled up in an armchair, reading his way through a pile of old comics, when Miss Stevens came into the room, followed by a man and a woman he'd never seen before.

"Oh, Rusty." Miss Stevens said, distractedly. "Have you seen Greg by any chance?"

He shook his head. "Not for a while."

"Oh, dear." She hesitated. Would you mind entertaining Mr. and Mrs. Anchorage while I go and find him? That's a good boy." She left before he had a chance to answer, and he found himself alone in a room with two complete strangers standing between him and the only exit.

They looked at him and he looked back at them. He had absolutely no idea who they were.

"So, Rusty, is it?" The man, Mr. Anchorage, smiled warmly at him. Rusty resisted the urge to look round to see if he'd maybe missed any windows. He hadn't. "We haven't seen you here before. Are you new?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I arrived on Thursday."

They looked slightly taken aback at his 'sir', so he deliberately changed his stance subtly, to appear more relaxed.

"How are you finding it?" Mr. Anchorage continued, after a pause. "Are you settling in fine?"

"Uh huh." His keen eyes saw how his informality relaxed them a little. "Everyone's very nice."

They smiled at him, and he smiled back. Glancing over them quickly, he noticed that Mr. Anchorage was wearing a Little League lapel pin. "And Joe said that he'd take me along to baseball practice, when it starts." he added. "I can't wait."

"You like baseball?" Mr. Anchorage asked immediately. "Who do you support?"

He hesitated for a split second, but there was a flash of a navy, red and white sock at the man's ankle, so he took a chance and said "The Red Sox."

Mr. Anchorage smiled broadly and started talking quickly about the upcoming season. Rusty was able to bluff his way through with no real difficulty.

When her husband finally paused for breath, Mrs. Anchorage – who had been smiling indulgently throughout – asked "So, what else do you like doing, Rusty?"

He smiled cheerfully at her. She seemed to like that. He'd already noticed the smudge of blue paint on her wrist earlier. She could just be redecorating or something, but it looked more like oil paint to him. "Well," he said shyly, "I quite like drawing, but I'm not real good at it."

"I'm sure that's not true." she said, warmly. "You like art, then?"

"Uh huh." He nodded. "It's my best subject at school." He was lying about that, as it happened, but it wasn't that important.

They both smiled at him again, and started talking to him about school. He managed to keep them happy, and even avoided flinching when Mr. Anchorage reached out and ruffled his hair.

All in all he felt he'd coped pretty well, so when Miss Stevens finally returned, he couldn't understand why Greg was glaring at him.

The Anchorages said hello to Greg and then took Miss Stephens aside for a long few moments. They kept glancing over at him, and he kept hearing the word 'unavailable'. Miss Stevens looked apologetic. The Anchorages looked sad. Greg looked really angry.

Eventually, Miss Stevens ushered him out of the room and told him to go play. He went to one of the empty rooms on the second floor and smoked the last of his cigarettes. After twenty minutes he saw the Anchorages drive away.

It was early evening before Greg caught up with him and knocked him to the floor. "They were my ticket out of here!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry." Rusty said, as meekly as he knew how. He didn't try and fight back. Greg was a lot bigger than him, and he didn't want to risk being seen as a threat.

"You know how often people come by looking for older kids?" Greg snarled. "I was gonna be adopted."

Rusty looked straight at him. "Maybe they'll be back."

"Yeah. _Maybe_. But they didn't say they would." Greg swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "I hate you." he yelled, and ran out of the room

Rusty looked over at Jerry, who'd been standing there silently throughout the whole thing, and willed him to go after his friend. After a moments hesitation he did, and, with an apologetic glance, Randy followed.

On the third night once again, he couldn't sleep. He had no more cigarettes, the room was smaller than ever, and none of the others were talking to him. That wouldn't last long though. Greg had nodded and almost smiled when he'd handed over the comics he'd smuggled out of the reading room, the half block of chocolate he'd stolen from the kitchen and the Bumper Book of Dirty Jokes he'd won off Joe. When Greg forgave him, he knew that the others would too.

In the meantime he lay awake, his arm over his face, and considered. He had no doubt that he'd be able to get adopted or fostered, if he wanted. Once everything was settled there would be other families that he'd be able to con into believing that he was exactly what they wanted. It would be easy. And it would be months, probably, before they realised that he'd lied to them. Before they saw what he really was and looked away in disappointment. And by that time it would be too late. He bit his lip hard and tasted blood. It would be easy . . .

On the fourth day he went to Miss Stevens and told her he'd been lying. It took three police officers, five social workers, two psychologists, twelve hours and a lot of fast talking, but in the end he was driven back to his dad's flat with nothing more than the clothes he was wearing and a disgusted look and a promise of monthly home visits from a social worker he would never see again.

The worst part was going back to school the next day. Not because of the whispers and sideways glances from the other kids, who didn't know what had happened, but clearly knew something had. Not even because of the averted gazes and contemptuous expressions that all the teachers were wearing, or the way they all talked about him when they thought he couldn't hear of understand. "_Highly disturbed_." "_Hurting himself_." and what seemed to be the favourite, "_Attention-seeking behaviour_." It was awful. And it wasn't the worst.

The worst was the first time he came face to face with Danny. Because Danny stood there, fists tightly clenched at his sides, and with an expression on his face that Rusty would never understand, asked "_Why_?"

And Rusty just shook his head and looked away.

And Danny didn't ask again.

But the first time - after - that he came to school with bruises, and blood staining the collar of the nice, blue, almost-new shirt that Miss Stevens had given him, Danny ran away with him for the day, and they hid in the darkness, and they both pretended that Danny's arms weren't around him, and they both pretended he wasn't crying.

* * *

**I vaguely hope that you're slightly less upset after reading that than I am after writing it. God, I'm pathetic. Anyway, let me know what you think - please.**


	6. Thisisourdecisiontolivefastanddieyoung

**

* * *

**

This is our decision (to live fast and die young)

**OK, this is set six months after 'The Lies we live' making it the latest thus far chronologically.**

**Keen-eyed readers may notice that I don't own the title - it's a lyric from MGMT's Time to pretend. I heard it on the radio and found it peculiarly apposite. Particularly considering the subsequent line 'Yeah it's overwhelming, but what else can we do? Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?' This doesn't make this a song fic - the fic came first.**

**I've been meaning to say - I've been accounting for the time period whenever I mention money in this. So, for example the five dollars each that they took off the football team in 'Remember the first time' would be the equivalent of about fifteen dollars today, the thirty dollars for the lockpicks came out at just under seventy as I remember and the five thousand in this equals wowee. Or nearly twelve thousand if you prefer. Just so you know. **

* * *

Danny was almost certain that it must be possible for life to get better – he didn't really believe in perfection after all – but driving along the freeway in a convertible on a gloriously sunny day, his best friend dripping ice cream on the leather seats, the radio blaring out Van Halen, a suitcase with five thousand dollars in the back seat and a future stretching out in front of them; well, it was a little difficult to see just how.

It had started three weeks ago when he'd got the letter from Columbia University, offering him an interview with the Dean of Admissions to discuss his application and the whole financial aid issue. Okay, so it was just the first step, but still he wasn't able to keep the grin off his face as he brushed past his mom – who didn't look up from her paper – and headed out to Rusty's.

He'd knocked on the door slightly more enthusiastically than normal and so he'd been something more than disconcerted when it was pulled open by Rusty's father who stood swaying and looking down at him.

Danny smiled politely. "Is Rusty home?" Sometimes it was the people who you hated more than anything else in the world that you had to look respectful at. He'd learned that lesson early.

Rusty's father continued to look blankly at him.

"Your son?" he tried.

Still no reaction, but Rusty appeared behind him, trailing his jacket on the ground, and ducked past his father and smiled at Danny. "Let's go."

The door was swung shut behind them.

"When did he get home?" Danny asked. He'd been gone for nearly a week this time, working or drinking, or both.

"Last night. I stayed in my room and he passed out on the sofa."

"Good arrangement."

Rusty nodded. "I thought so. What's up, anyway?"

Grinning, Danny passed the letter over. "How do you fancy living in New York?"

Rusty scanned the letter and grinned back. "It's not the same as – " he said, warningly.

" – I know. But don't you – "

" – completely." Rusty smiled at him, pride shining in his eyes with no attempt to hide it.

"Breakfast?" Danny suggested.

"Pancakes?" Rusty countered, hopefully.

"Sure." he agreed.

"My treat." they said in unison, and laughed.

"Flip a coin for it."

"Yours or mine?"

* * *

Pancakes meant Mabel's, and when Danny showed her the letter, he was completely thrown when she immediately squealed and enveloped him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you."

He was very glad he wasn't prone to blushing. "It's not actually an acceptance." he pointed out.

"Still." she stepped back and looked at him fondly. "Breakfast is on the house."

Well, at least that was that settled.

They waited until she had bustled off, before resuming talking.

"How do you want to get there?" he asked quietly

"Bus is the most obvious." Rusty pulled a face.

Yeah, Danny felt the same way. "Car?" he suggested instead.

Rusty looked thoughtful. "It'd probably be cheaper as well. If we picked up another one for the trip home we might not even have to buy gas."

That was a practical way of looking at it. Danny just wanted plenty of leg room. "Car park on 12th?" he asked. They were going through a list of good places in the city. The last thing they wanted was to draw attention and have anywhere beef up their security.

Rusty nodded. "Haven't been there since – "

" – since you wanted to go to the drive-thru." Danny said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"The fries taste different." Rusty defended himself.

"They don't!"

Rusty grinned and leaned back in his chair. Danny shook his head, Mabel brought the pancakes and he sat through another couple of minutes of fond fussing.

"We can check out rent prices while we're there." Rusty said, between mouthfuls.

Danny nodded. Anything that got a few less unknown quantities on the monthly budget Rusty was putting together would be good. They couldn't know what the bottom line of what they were going to need to pull together was until the thing started looking a little less like an algebra problem. "And investigate the high schools round where we'll be staying." he added.

Rusty shook his head in amusement.

"What?" Danny raised an eyebrow.

"Just can't believe I'm running away from home and I've still got to go to school."

"Get used to it." Danny said, perhaps a little shorter than he should have, but there were still some things that he was maybe still a little sensitive about. He hadn't forgotten what Rusty had said, after they'd been arrested, about his future.

Rusty dropped the subject immediately. "We should go see Leo. Get a name."

Now there was an idea.

* * *

The car they'd been driving had been chosen for its full tank of gas and because Rusty had felt a peculiar fondness for the yellow fuzzy dice dangling from the rear view mirror. Next time Danny was going to ignore him and find something a little more fun to drive. Whatever they picked up in New York, he was going to try and leave it in the same space they'd got this one from. The symmetry amused him.

Danny had learned to drive months back. The lessons and the test had been paid for by his mom; he'd passed the week before she disowned him. She'd actually said she was proud of him. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd heard that from her.

Still, he didn't have a lot of experience with driving long distances, and yeah, after barely two hours he needed a break. Just as he was about to admit it, Rusty said casually. "Rest stop next exit."

He shut his mouth and made the turning. "This would be easier if you could drive." he commented as he parked.

"Think they like it if you have a license before they let you do that." Rusty pointed out.

"We could probably get you one." They had all sorts of other fake ID after all, and it wasn't as if Rusty looked that obviously fourteen.

Rusty just looked at him.

"I'm serious." Danny said, getting out of the car. "Come on, switch places. I'll teach you."

Rusty practically bounced out of the car.

Of course, Rusty picked up driving at the same pace he absorbed everything else new. By the time he'd spent an hour or so driving round the near-deserted parking lot – with a ten minute break for donuts – Danny would probably have been comfortable letting him loose on the freeway. They weren't _that_ stupid though. Still hopefully – _hopefully _– they'd be doing this a lot over the coming year. Few more lessons and the proper fake documentation and it would get a lot easier.

Three days of surveillance, room service and wandering the city later, they stood in a large hall with a couple dozen other prospective Columbia students and their parents. Danny's interview had been that morning and it had gone well. He knew what he had to do now. And what's more he knew he could do it. Life was looking pretty good, he thought, glancing over at Rusty who had apparently abandoned the whole idea of listening to the advertising spiel in favour of chatting to a brunette wearing a bright red t-shirt proclaiming her to be a student volunteer.

"So what's it like here?" Rusty was saying with an engaging smile.

"It's brilliant. You'll love it." she smiled back. "You're a little young to be a student though, aren't you?"

"Sixteen." Rusty lied, to Danny's amusement. "I skipped a couple years."

She raised an eyebrow. "You must be pretty smart."

Rusty shrugged modestly. "I do okay."

She laughed, and leaned in closer. "What classes are you thinking of taking?"

"Not sure. Languages, maybe. Or math. And I'm interested in architecture."

"Really? Your parents must be so proud. I bet they're not too happy about you leaving home so young though."

Rusty's smiled slipped a little and Danny watched curiously, fully aware that this had nothing to do with any of the real reasons that Rusty might be a little awkward with questions about his parents. On the whole this was much more interesting than the presentation. "They were a little upset about it at first but after the doctors said . . . " he stopped and looked away, blinking for a couple of seconds. "You've just got to live one day at a time, you know?" he finished bravely.

Oh, he was so going to hell.

Shaking his head he looked back at the Dean for a few minutes, and when the speech finished and he looked round, Rusty and the girl had vanished. He grinned to himself, and spent the next twenty minutes circulating among professors, getting himself noticed.

Eventually, as the others departed he started to search. Didn't take long; almost immediately he came across an alcove and Rusty and the girl making out like it was going out of style. He hadn't made a noise, but Rusty – without stopping in any way - still held up three fingers to him. Then he appeared to reconsider and added another two. Danny shook his head and left them to it.

It would maybe be easier if Rusty were to go after any of the girls his own age who followed him around. Though actually, that would feel a little weird. Sort of . . . icky. Probably because Rusty didn't act his age. Still, that girl had to be at least nineteen. _Danny_ would hesitate to try and chat her up. Rusty really did have no shame.

About seven minutes later Rusty sauntered round the corner. The brunette gave him an embarrassed little wave and mouthed the words 'Call me' and vanished, presumably to try and catch up with the tour.

"You going to?" Danny asked, as they headed towards the front entrance.

Rusty shrugged. "She meant when I start school here next fall. Could be a little difficult to explain."

Danny looked at him. "You've got lipstick on your face. Just – "

" – there?" Rusty wiped at his face.

"Little higher. Yeah, that's it."

"Thanks."

* * *

They went to a bar just off campus that night. After all, if they were going to be here for the next few years they might as well get a good idea of what life was going to be like.

Rusty had two beers before switching to soft drinks and was now introducing a group of drunk frat boys to the perils of playing Find the Lady with a plausible stranger. Danny had raised an eyebrow, but Rusty had assured him with a glance that everything was under control. Apparently he was a hit. Knowing him he'd be inducted into the fraternity by morning and running it by next week.

Danny had found an even better way to spend his time. Her name was Samantha and she was studying geology – which he immediately developed a life long interest in. Glass of whisky in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and she'd thought he was older than her and he hadn't bothered to correct her.

They sat at the bar, and they talked about rocks and books, and their favourite teachers in high school, and parental horror stories. (Some of the ones he told her were even true.)

Half an hour before closing time, Rusty, the invisible man passed behind him, and he felt the hotel key being lifted out of his pocket. The words 'Have a good time' lingered on the air, and when he smiled it wasn't meant for Samantha.

He would.

* * *

It was a little after three when Rusty let him into the room. The floor was covered with the plans they'd drawn of the jewellers, little trays of costume jewellery and what looked like the remains of every single dessert the hotel offered. Obviously Rusty had been putting his time to good use.

He flopped down onto the bed. "We miss anything?" he asked.

"Nah. It's all good." Rusty started piling the papers together and looked over at him. "Speaking of – "

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Danny said immediately.

Rusty grinned. "If you didn't get any further than kissing then I'm extremely disappointed in you."

Danny laughed. "It was good, okay?"

Having finished his tidying, Rusty climbed into his own bed. He'd already changed into a t-shirt and sweat pants, and Danny knew he really should do the same, but he was comfortable.

"Did you mean what you said today?" he asked, suddenly. He'd been thinking about it on and off all day. It hadn't felt like a lie, and he'd thought – when it was Rusty – that he could always tell.

Rusty turned his head to look at him.

"When you said you were interested in studying languages and architecture." Danny clarified. He was almost certain that Rusty had known exactly what he was talking about, but sometimes it was good to be precise. Less room for anyone to wiggle out that way.

A non-committal shrug was the only answer.

"Rusty." he said, quietly.

"Maybe." Rusty admitted.

He rolled over so that Rusty wouldn't see the broad smile that he couldn't keep off his face. Even after they'd made _the_ plan, this was the first time that he'd had any real indication that Rusty was listening to him, and that somewhere, other plans were being made.

"You know, if we're going to be coming through here a lot, it's going to get expensive in hotel bills." Rusty remarked after a few moments.

"Especially if you keep ordering room service like that." Danny agreed.

"Oh, don't worry, we're not paying for any of that." Rusty reassured him. "I won it in a poker game."

That was a little . . . but Danny decided to let it go. "Mike's moving up in a few months." he said instead. "His cousin has an apartment and a roommate moving out in November." He'd forgotten to mention earlier. "If we tell him – "

" – the truth?"

Danny shrugged. "Within reason. Anyway, we could stay with him."

There was no answer. He glanced over. Rusty was asleep. He smiled to himself; probably a good idea.

* * *

He waited until Rusty had been in the jewellers for nearly fifteen minutes before he followed. It was obvious that he'd immediately drawn everyone's attention as he stood there in his torn jeans and dirty shirt, looking round the place. His gaze didn't linger on Rusty, clad in a blazer with an ostentatious crest for some high class private school, and with his hair neat and dark with gel.

After a couple of seconds conversation resumed, and he heard Rusty's voice – a perfect, upper-class local accent firmly in place – complaining to the clerk standing attentively next to him. "No, no, Mama cannot stand pearls. Could I perhaps see that tray after all? Please?" There were already three trays of rings laid out on the corner in front of him. Perfect.

"Can I help you . . . sir?" Another clerk materialised in front of him, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I'm lookin' for somethin' like an engagement ring?" he said.

The clerk's expression looked mildly pained. "Certainly, sir. This way."

As they'd expected, he was led to the opposite end of the shop from Rusty. Where they kept the cheaper stuff. Pretty much at random, he pointed to one of the trays. "Lessee."

With another pained expression the clerk pulled the tray out. Danny made a show of studying each ring in turn. He waited until the clerk's attention was half-drawn to another, more profitable-looking customer entering the shop before he dropped his house key on the floor and swept the tray to the ground as he made to pick it up. The clerk's attention – everyone's attention – was immediately back on him, and as he straightened back up, apologising and placing the key back in his pocket, the clerk screamed "Thief!"

"Wha', what?" he stammered.

Now everyone was really staring, and three other clerks drifted over at speed.

"I saw you put your hand in your pocket. What have you stolen!"

"Nothin'" he yelled. "I'm not a thief."

The manager shimmered up. "Young man, turn out your pockets." he said gravely.

Danny blinked, as though fighting back tears. "I haven't done nothing." he protested.

One of the clerks bent over and started picking up the fallen jewellery.

"Now." the manager said, in a tone that brooked no contradictions.

Slowly, and with an air of great reluctance Danny complied. A wallet with ID proclaiming him to be Brian Harris, a bus ticket, a stub for the cinema, cigarettes and a lighter and the house key made a little pile on the counter. Of course, there was no jewellery.

"But I saw him." The first clerk yelled. He darted forwards and started patting Danny down.

"Don't touch me!" Danny yelled.

"Sidney!" the clerk who'd been tidying up called. "Sid, there's nothing missing."

The clerk stepped backwards and stared in disbelief. "What?"

"It's all here. See for yourself."

"I just came in here, cos I wanted to know how much I had to save up to buy a ring for Elise." Danny let his voice break, just a little.

Sidney was blushing, and the manager was no longer staring angrily at _Danny_. "I'm terribly sorry for this mix-up, sir." The manager offered smoothly. "I hope that this experience won't stop you from patronising our establishment." Which, Danny figured translated as please, please don't sue.

He shook his head angrily. "I just want to go home." he said, and brushed the back of his hand across his eyes, before heading for the door.

Waiting for Rusty to come round the corner took an anxious two-cigarette filled ten minutes, but he finally appeared, having ditched the blazer somewhere along the way. Well, he'd been complaining about it itching all day.

He glanced over and raised his eyebrows. Rusty nodded minutely.

He grinned. "Let's go find Leo's guy."

* * *

Leo, the fence that Bobby Caldwell had introduced them to, had given them the name of another fence – Jacques Callaghan - based in New York that he trusted. They'd figured that they wanted to introduce themselves as soon as possible, and to go with something. They wanted to seem like serious players, after all.

So they sat in the back room of Jacque's Irish theme bar, and watched as he examined the rings and bracelets that Rusty had palmed and replaced with fakes while Danny provided a distraction.

Finally Jacques unscrewed the jewellers eyepiece and looked them over carefully. "These are good quality."

They nodded. It had been a very up-market jewellers.

"And you come highly recommended. People I trust say I can trust you." There was a questioning note in his voice.

Danny smiled, as relaxed as he could. "We do our best."

"And that seems to be pretty good. These I can deal with no problems. So let's say . . . five thousand."

Okay. Danny did his best not to actually pass out. He also managed not to turn his head and stare at Rusty, but he could _feel_ the startled incredulity. Here was hoping they weren't being obvious to anyone else. "That seems fair." he said, his voice steady. It was maybe five times what they'd been expecting.

Jacques clicked his fingers and his man – bodyguard? Secretary? Barman? Danny wasn't sure – leapt to attention and headed to the safe in the corner. Both Danny and Rusty made a point of turning their heads, and Jacques grunted his approval.

"Got something to carry the cash in?" Jacques asked abruptly.

Ah. "No, I'm afraid not." Rusty said, with a slight hint of apology in his voice.

Jacques looked slightly amused and pulled a battered suitcase out from under the desk. "Here."

The man passed Danny the bundles of notes, and he immediately gave them to Rusty who started counting them and putting them in the case.

"Well," Jacques said, after Rusty had nodded to Danny. "Looks like we're through here for today. I'd offer the pair of you a drink, but Bobby made it absolutely clear that there'd be trouble if he heard about either of you drinking in my place."

Okay. That did catch him by surprise. "Some other time perhaps." he suggested.

Jacques nodded. "I look forward to seeing you again."

Once they were outside they stood and stared at each other for a few long moments.

"Well – " Danny said eventually. That had gone better than they'd expected.

" – yeah." Rusty agreed.

They started walking towards the parking lot they'd picked out as a good place to get a ride home from. There'd been a convertible there this morning that Danny had quite liked the look of.

"How do you think he knew?" Rusty asked suddenly.

"Bobby?" Danny guessed. "Maybe Leo checked with him who to recommend."

"Or maybe he really is checking up on whether we've been drinking."

Well, they never drank at the bar they met Leo in anyway. And anything else that Bobby didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

* * *

The drive home was better than the drive there, even though he knew what they were going back to. The addition of blazing sunshine and five thousand dollars would do that. Though the ice-cream that Rusty had taken out of his bag had him a little worried.

"I like it all melted." Rusty said, in response to the unasked question.

Fair enough.

Five thousand dollars though. For doing what could, at one hell of a stretch, be called four days work.

"So, how's our budget looking now?" he asked, with a smile.

Rusty grinned back. "We're going to be good."

They were going to be far, far better than good. They were going to be fantastic.

* * *

**And, yeah? What did ya think?**


	7. Life Lessons

**Short and sweet, I hope. Set after 'The more things change' but before 'the lies we live' Danny is sixteen. Rusty is fourteen.**

* * *

Danny figured that there were plenty of advantages to this whole sports day thing, as long as no-one actually expected him to participate. But an afternoon out of class was always good, and if watching Principal Miller wrestling with the microphone stand wasn't entertaining enough that was more than made up for by the feeling of Patricia leaning back against him, her hair tickling his cheek, and the knowledge that if he moved his hand two inches further down . . . well, actually if he moved his hand two inches further down _now_, while they were surrounded by people, she'd probably turn round and slap him. But still. It was shaping up to be a good sort of afternoon.

"_Ahem hem_." Apparently the microphone had won out, and Principal Miller bent double to talk into it. A ripple of laughter swept over the crowd. "_Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am delighted to see so many of you gathered here with enthusiasm in your eyes to celebrate _. . . "

Patricia stood on tip toe to whisper in his ear "Is that enthusiasm I spy in your eyes?"

Danny grinned. "Just happy to see you."

She laughed and stepped away from him. "Down boy."

" _. . . we must never forget that while we may learn our lessons in the classroom there are other things that life has to teach us . . . _"

""Ten more." Rusty announced, sidling up, the paper envelopes in his hand.

Danny took them and stuffed them in his jacket. The track shorts and t-shirt Rusty was wearing didn't exactly offer much chance of concealment. Probably he should have been the one to sneak around and collect the last minute bets, but Patricia had been smiling, and Rusty hadn't minded. "All of them –"

" – in the book." Rusty nodded and handed the notebook over too.

Patricia rolled her eyes. "Don't you two ever say 'hello' like normal people?"

"Hi, Pat." Rusty grinned at her and dodged aside just before she leaned over and swatted him on the arm.

" _. . . Teamwork. Perseverance. Friendship The value of hard work and a proper sportsman – or woman – like attitude. These are the qualities . . ._ "

"Lot of people betting on Jim Rogers in the high jump. Think we might have missed something." Rusty told him quietly.

He shrugged. So they'd lose some money there. Flicking through the book he was pretty sure that by the end of the day they were going to be up enough that it would make very little difference. "We'll see what happens. How about the 100 metres?"

"Split right across the board."

"If you're going to talk business, I'm going to go and find Gina." Patricia told him matter-of-factly.

He hesitated for a minute, but honestly, they really did need to talk. "Sorry."

She laughed and kissed him. "Used to it, remember? Catch you later. Good luck, Rusty." He watched her slip through the crowd towards her friends.

" _. . . And so I must conclude by reminding you that whatever lessons life throws at you, it is imperative that you learn how to pick yourselves up and start over. Remember it truly is not the winning that matters. It is the taking part. Thank you. "_

He looked round, vaguely surprised as the crowd applauded politely. "He done?" For Miller that had been a very short speech.

"Uh huh." Rusty sounded faintly bemused too. "I was assuming he was going to try and break his President's Day record."

For once they followed the crowd, and wandered to the side of the track where the first race was due to start. "No-one outstanding." Rusty told him. "So we didn't get many takers."

Danny nodded. "When are you – "

" – Not for a while."

He nodded again and checked the notebook. Most of the events there was no problem. As Rusty had said, they could be in a bit of trouble if Jim Rogers did win the high jump. And there was a similar cluster at the girls' 1500 metres, but they'd anticipated that. Kelly Sharp had been single-handedly responsible for the rep of their varsity team for two years now. "What about the hurdles?" he asked Rusty, carefully not smiling.

Rusty cocked his head. "What about them?"

"Should we be looking at you as a serious contender?" He knew that Rusty had tried to wriggle out of this whole sports day deal, but the fact that he hadn't managed it, well, that meant he was due some teasing.

"Are you asking as my friend or my business partner?" Rusty's expression was completely blank.

Okay. What? "Where does friendship come into this?"

"Well, obviously if you were my friend you'd be betting on me yourself. Otherwise you could crush my fragile self-esteem."

"Your self-esteem could withstand a head on collision with a semi." Danny pointed out.

For a fraction of a second Rusty's eyes dropped to the ground, and a look of hurt crossed his face. Danny cursed silently. Oh, he knew he was being played, knew that this was what he got for all the mocking of the last few days, not to mention the things he'd said when he'd first seen Rusty in shorts, but he still couldn't help it. He grabbed the notebook, put a dollar in one of the empty envelopes and wrote his bet up. "Satisfied?"

Rusty grinned.

Then Doug Fletcher leaned in to him and produced an envelope of his own. "I'll take some of that action." Danny frowned, and it wasn't until he'd already taken the bet that he became aware of Rusty frantically shaking his head. He was about to ask why when Ami Sato shyly pushed an envelope into his hand. He barely had time to register Rusty's name on the bet before a dozen others came up, each waving their own envelopes.

Oh. Crap.

* * *

It was a while before they were able to sneak out of the crowd. And by that time they'd had nearly forty people lay the same bet. Things were looking pretty serious, and Danny cursed the genius idea that they'd had to distribute envelopes so that people could put their money inside and sneak the bets to them, even in class time. Because even though it had worked great up till now, it meant that they weren't given an opportunity to turn anyone down.

Rusty broke the stunned silence. "We're going to get lynched."

"Ohhh, yeah." Danny agreed.

Patricia came round the corner at a run. "What's going on? People are looking for you. How come everyone's wanting to bet on Rusty?"

"They think we're going to fix the race." Danny explained.

"You're not, are you?" Patricia's eyes narrowed.

Rusty shrugged. "Might have to, now."

"Wait," She looked confused. "Surely if everyone's betting on you, you need to lose, right? That way you don't need to pay out any money."

It was Danny's turn to shrug. It wasn't that simple. For one thing, if Rusty lost now, everyone would assume that he'd thrown the race, which would lead to the lynching, but more importantly if everyone thought that they'd deliberately set this up to part them from their money, they'd lose the reputation for honesty and fair-dealing that they'd worked so hard to achieve. And okay, so the reality was that they were thieves and liars and cheats, and maybe in any other world that made them the bad guys but this really wasn't their sort of con.

The lesson here was quite simple; never, ever bet in any book you're running.

"We're in serious trouble." he told Rusty, as the loudspeaker announced the imminent start of the boys' 400 metre hurdles.

Rusty nodded. "You more than me."

He said nothing, just waited.

"You're going to lose your dollar, I wouldn't have bet on me." He grinned and started heading towards the track.

Danny yelled after him "You know, one of these days I'm going to figure out just what I did to deserve you!"

Patricia elbowed him. Hard. "That wasn't a nice thing to say."

He smiled to himself. "Yes it was."

* * *

Oddly it wasn't until he was actually watching the race that it occurred to Danny that just like with his grades, maybe according to Rusty-logic, it wasn't the winning or the taking part, it was the not under any circumstances being noticed. Because contrary to all expectations – contrary to everything that was possible - Rusty was winning. And Danny was cheering himself hoarse, and it wasn't because of the averted-lynching, and it certainly wasn't because of any stupid one dollar bet.

After he'd crossed the finish line and dodged his way through the crowd, Rusty made his way over and flopped to the ground beside Danny.

"That was amazing." Patricia said, wide-eyed.

"I get a lot of practice." Rusty said, smiling as Danny passed him a bottle of water. "We're going to need to pay – "

A lot more than they'd made. Yeah. " - It's okay." They'd need to tap into his car fund, and Rusty's emergency money, but it was better this way. They could always make more money. Other things were harder to replace.

"And we owe Tommy Banner an A in Chemistry." Danny turned to look at him. Rusty shrugged. "I wouldn't have been able to beat him."

Fair enough, but an A? Tommy Banner? He shook his head sceptically. "Going to be tricky."

"If I do all his homework, and we get the paper in plenty time to coach him . . . "

Could work. And they could worry about it later. "You know they're going to want you to join the track team now."

Rusty groaned and covered his face with his arm. "Tell them I died." he said, voice muffled.

Danny laughed.

If the game was impossible, change the rules. That was the lesson.

* * *

**As I said, short and sweet. And there's a reason for that, and that reason is that I know what's coming up in the next few chapters and I figured that a little bit of lightness could only be a good thing.**


	8. Other Nightmares Part One

**Keen eyed readers may notice that this is in fact part 1 of a two-part chapter. If TV shows can do it, so can I. This is because it was getting incredibly long and I was worried that people might get bored in the middle.**

**Serious angst warnings ahead**

**Edited, because I completely forgot to mention where this falls on the timeline. It's set a matter of weeks after 'Walk before you can crawl' - the one where they went to Chicago and met Bobby - and therefore Danny is 15 and Rusty is 12.**

**This chapter is for the genius commonly known as InSilva, for reassurance, support, advice and for having the patience of a saint when dealing with yours truly's astounding incoherence. And mate, if you don't want it, give it to someone else.**

* * *

Being called to Principal Miller's office was far from a new experience for Danny, and he smiled at Ms. Carson, as he crossed into the outer office, and had to work hard not to let his surprise show when she smiled sympathetically back. How much trouble were they in here? They hadn't done anything too serious lately. Unless they'd somehow found out about the counterfeit lunch tickets scam. Or the thing with the guitar and the flood. Or, oh, God, maybe they'd found out about Chicago. Automatically he looked round for Rusty, but there was no sign. And Rusty was in Chemistry right now, sitting that test he'd been talking about. He would have been here long before Danny, if he'd been called into the office. Well. That was one good thing, anyway.

"Go right on in, Danny." Ms. Carson told him gently. There was something seriously wrong here.

There were four people in the room when he went in; Principal Miller, Attwood and two cops. That's never a good sign. Attwood and the Principal were talking quietly to each other, but as soon as they saw him they stopped and turned to look at him. Danny recognised the expression on their faces even though he wasn't normally the one that it was turned on. Concern. Pity. And just that ever-wonderful hint of fear that signals that they really, _really_ wanted this to be someone else's problem. Something was seriously wrong.

"Danny. Please. Come in." Mr Attwood laid a fatherly hand on Danny's shoulder and steered him over to a chair.

Feeling more than a little on edge, Danny let him, even though, all things considered, he usually didn't like being in the same room as the bastard. "What's going on?" he asked, and he could hear the fear in his voice. "Tell me."

The adults exchanged glances. There was that look again. "Danny," Principal Miller began slowly. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. There's been an accident." There was an unpleasant buzzing in Danny's ears. "Your father was caught in a pile-up on the freeway this morning."

"He's all right though." Danny interrupted, because he could see the shape of the oncoming sentence and the buzzing was getting louder and louder. "He's going to be all right."

The Principal took a deep breath and laid his hands flat on the table. "No, Danny. He's not. He's dead. I'm so, so sorry."

Attwood's hand was on his shoulder again, squeezing gently and he couldn't bear it. "Get away from me." he said quietly.

"Danny." Attwood's voice was gentle, but he wasn't listening. "We need to know who we can call. We've been trying to reach your mother, but we can't get a hold of her. Is there anyone else?"

"Get off me." Danny yelled and Attwood leapt back as though he'd been burned. Danny buried his face in his hands for a few seconds and wondered why he wasn't crying. He was aware of Attwood stepping closer again, hand outstretched. "Don't." he warned, and this time he was listened to. "Emma . . . Dad's girlfriend." he began. She should know. She had to be told.

The Principal brightened a little. "She could take you?" he suggested.

But the cops were looking at each other, and at their notebooks and one of them stepped forwards. "Would that be an Emma Smith?" he asked, and Danny knew even before the cop went on to say "I'm sorry. She was in the car."

His hands were shaking and the buzzing in his ears . . . it felt like he was going into freefall.

"Danny?" Dimly he heard the Principal, registered the concern in his voice. "Danny, just breath, okay?"

He choked back a laugh. It wasn't okay, and breathing wasn't what he needed. He knew exactly what – who - he needed, and he was up and running for the door before they could possibly understand or hope to stop him, only one thought in his mind.

* * *

Rusty couldn't help but think that Chemistry was much easier to deal with than a lot of other subjects. He'd already read through the test, thirty questions, multiple choice. So all he had to do was answer, say, twenty right and he'd be sitting on a nice, average score. Actually, maybe he'd get a couple more right. He liked Mr. Costanza, and the guy was completely convinced that he could be doing better if he tried. It was tests in things like English and History that he had to work harder to keep his marks even. Too many ambiguities, too many possible interpretations. He'd slipped up last month, got top marks in Mrs. Jones class.

She'd sent a letter home.

He wouldn't risk that again.

Chewing absent-mindedly on his pen lid, he started to consider which were the least suspicious questions to get wrong. Consistency, that was the key. Honestly, his test papers were works of art.

There was a loud bang, and he carefully didn't jump. He did look up though, and to say he was _concerned_ to see Danny standing, shaking in the doorway would be one hell of an understatement. By the time Danny spotted him, Rusty had already stood up and was heading for the door.

"Yes, Mr. Ocean. Can I help you?" Mr. Costanza sounded polite and puzzled, and Rusty knew that he wasn't seeing what was there.

Danny said nothing, and Rusty, close enough now to see the emptiness in his eyes, wasn't at all surprised.

That was when Mr. Costanza spotted him. "Mr. Ryan! Please keep your seat."

Rusty ignored him, intent on Danny, who was blank and still and silent and nevertheless was practically begging him.

"Rusty. Sit down. Please."

He liked Mr. Costanza. He did. But not that much. Never that much.

"If you leave this classroom now, young man, you'll get a failing mark."

That would mean a letter home too. But it didn't even give him pause.

He reached the doorway, and Danny reached out and touched his arm. "I need . . . " he broke off, and shook his head, and his voice was quiet and choked and he didn't sound like Danny.

Rusty knew what he meant though. Someplace safe. Someplace hidden. "Come on." he said, promising everything.

Danny followed him obediently into the corridor, leaving Mr. Costanza spluttering, and the other students staring.

He hesitated for a couple of seconds, trying to decide where to go, and that was when the Principal, Mr. Attwood, Ms. Carson and two cops came round the corner. His breath caught in his throat, and he turned to stare at Danny, but Danny didn't seem to have registered. Danny didn't seem to be seeing anything other than Rusty, and maybe even that not so much.

Without even thinking, he reached out and grabbed Danny's hand and pulled him down the corridor and through the door to the right. Through this classroom – ignoring the startled exclamations of an interrupted physics lesson – out this door, down this staircase, out and up this corridor, paying no attention to the sound of heavy footsteps racing behind them, through this door marked 'Emergency Exit', up this fire escape, through this window and to the door marked 'Private. Roof Access'. Danny was breathing hard behind him. Rusty had had to help him every step of the way and it was only now that he let go of his hand. There was no sound of pursuit; he rather thought they'd lost them when they ducked out onto the fire escape. Still, he looked round carefully before he reached into his pocket for the paperclips he kept there. Some skills it really didn't pay to advertise. The lockpicks were at Danny's. Neither of them was nearly stupid enough to carry that kind of thing to school.

The door swung open and he hurried Danny out and onto the roof, before he made sure that the door was secured behind them. There was the sound of a muffled sob, and his heart broke. He turned round to see Danny sprawled bonelessly against the wall, tears streaming openly down his face.

Hoping with every fibre of his being that he was doing the right thing, never having felt quite so alone or quite so helpless, Rusty knelt in front of him and wrapped his arms tightly around his friend.

The sun was setting by the time Danny managed to cry himself out enough to whisper the truth into Rusty's shoulder; and it had been long dark by the time they let go of each other and made their silent, unsteady way back to Danny's house.

* * *

There was a police car outside his house, and he didn't even notice it until he was right on top of it. He stopped in the driveway and stared, until he felt Rusty tug on his sleeve. "'S all right. Come on."

He nodded and followed.

His mom was sitting in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in front of her. Her eyes were red. Two cops – different ones than that morning - stood on either side. She looked up when he came in and ran over and hugged him tightly. For once it didn't feel like duty. "Oh Daniel, oh thank god, thank god."

"I'm sorry." he said awkwardly, but that just made her hold him tighter.

She finally released him and turned to Rusty and for a moment Danny thought she was going to hug him too, but he'd already stepped out of reach.

"Mrs. Ocean? We'll leave you to it now that your son is home."

"Yes, thank you officers." She smiled at them and Danny suddenly realised that she'd called the cops because he'd been missing for a few hours. Well, eight. That had never happened before.

The cops turned to look at Rusty. "Kid? Do you need a ride home?"

"He's staying." Danny said immediately. He couldn't stand to be alone, and that was what being without Rusty meant.

The cop blinked. "That's not really . . . "

"Staying." Danny insisted and took a step backwards, towards Rusty. He felt a hand on his shoulder – comforting, reassuring - and remembered Attwood that morning, and wondered how it could feel so different.

"Listen," the cop said, looking past him, at Rusty. "Your parents must be worried sick."

"It's just his dad, and he doesn't care." Danny pointed out. Both cops turned sharply to stare at him. The hand on his shoulder squeezed gently, and Rusty stepped in front of him.

"I already called my father and told him where I'd be, sir. He doesn't mind."

Oh, right. Lying. He should have remembered to. He nodded. "That's right."

His mother cleared her throat. She was looking a little frightened and he didn't know why. "Robert is very welcome to stay."

That seemed to satisfy the cops, and they left, no doubt delighted to get shot of the lot of them.

"Oh, Daniel." His mom reached out her hand to him and caressed his cheek. He could remember her doing that a long time ago. When he'd been a child. For a moment he was afraid that he was going to start crying again. He wouldn't cry in front of her. "I'm so sorry. You should never have had to hear like that."

He nodded stiffly and unconsciously stepped back, closer to Rusty. "I'm going to bed."

She looked relieved. "That's probably a good idea."

"Mrs. Ocean? Ma'am?" Rusty's voice was quiet but he sounded determined. "I think Danny should eat something."

He wasn't hungry.

"But you need to eat." Rusty told him gently, and Danny had no idea whether he'd actually spoken aloud or not.

"I'll make sandwiches." his mom said, with as much enthusiasm as she'd earlier shown for sleeping, and Danny realised that she had no idea what to do with him.

Rusty led him through to the kitchen in her wake, and sat with him at the dining table, his hand resting on his arm. Danny stared at the polished surface of the table. So clean you could almost eat your dinner off it. That was what Dad always said. Except Dad didn't. Because he hadn't lived here for over a year. And now he didn't live anywhere and that was just too much for Danny to try and understand right now.

Suddenly his eyes were filled with tears and he looked up, trying to find where his mom was, and if she could _see_.

"She went into the next room. To phone your Uncle Harold." Rusty said.

Danny nodded and wiped at his eyes. Rusty's hand squeezed his. "Why?" he wondered.

"I think he was worried about you." Rusty answered, carefully.

Danny nodded again and suddenly realised that there was a sandwich in front of him. He lifted up a corner of it carefully. Chicken salad. "I'm not hungry."

"Try a bite. Please." Rusty was patient and pleading and a manipulative bastard.

"You eat it." Danny suggested.

"I've got my own." He did as well. An identical and equally untouched sandwich lay in front of him.

Danny sighed and began to nibble at his sandwich. Rusty smiled at him and he suddenly realised that actually he was incredibly hungry.

He laid the sandwich down. "I shouldn't be eating."

"Okay." Rusty nodded.

"He's dead, Rus'."

"I know, Danny, I know." Rusty squeezed his hand again and Danny waited for a moment, to see if he was going to say anything else. Anything stupid like 'It's going to be all right' or 'These things get better with time.' But he didn't. Of course he didn't.

Danny picked up the sandwich and finished it quietly.

Once he saw that Danny was eating again, Rusty wolfed his food down and fetched them both a glass of milk.

"Drink." he told Danny, and this time Danny just went along with it, even though he could have done with something stronger.

"Can we go to bed now?" he asked plaintively, once they were done.

"Of course." Rusty smiled at him again and it hurt a little less.

When they stepped out into the hall, they could hear Danny's mom on the phone in the other room.

"No, he came home of his own accord thankfully." There was a pause. "Physically he's fine but . . . you know, I'm not sorry Luke's dead, I just wish he'd managed to do it in some way that didn't hurt Daniel."

He was shaking again, he dimly noted, and he just wanted her to _know_. Rusty made no attempt to stop him as he stepped into the room and held her gaze. "Good night, mom."

She stared at him aghast. "Daniel . . . "

"Good night." he repeated firmly.

"Good night." she said, defeat in her voice.

He didn't stop shaking until he reached the sanctuary of his room. His mom had set up a camp bed on the floor, he noticed dimly. That was actually considerate of her, but Rusty stayed over far more than she ever knew about – every night that it wasn't safe for him at home, if Danny had his way, - and they'd long since stopped bothering.

He crashed heavily onto the bed, and rolled against the wall to make room. Rusty sat on the covers next to him.

Danny faced the wall and didn't look round. "It's not like . . . " He trailed off. It wasn't like it was anything he hadn't heard before. It wasn't like he'd seriously thought his parents still loved each other. Actually, he'd never quite been persuaded that they ever had. But couldn't she have just kept her mouth shut for this one night?

" – I know." Rusty said quietly, and Danny knew that he did.

He started crying again, and all he could focus on was the feel of Rusty's hand rubbing against his shoulder, and the sound of Rusty's voice. It took him quite a while to realise that Rusty was reciting his Chemistry revision, but it was peculiarly hypnotic and he was asleep long before he knew it.

The nightmares were unformed and indescribable and they woke him, screaming and kicking, after barely an hour of sleep. Rusty was awake immediately, and apparently hadn't moved in the slightest, and Danny had no real clue whether he'd actually been sleeping.

Rusty's hand was on his shoulder. "Danny. You with me?"

"He taught me to ride a bike." he said, without really knowing why.

"What?" Rusty blinked, and Danny considered that this was the sort of thing Rusty might genuinely not know about.

"It's what fathers do. Or are supposed to do. And he did it."

"Oh." Rusty shifted slightly, so he was lying down next to Danny.

"He wasn't there a lot. But sometimes he was. And he taught me to ride a bike." He'd also comforted Danny after a nightmare once. That Danny could remember, anyway. He'd been five, and his dad had told him that there was nothing hiding under the bed.

Danny swallowed. "I want my dad."

Rusty said nothing, but he reached out and grasped Danny's hand, and Danny was safe and loved and for a moment he wanted to say thank you.

He didn't though. Because Rusty would never understand that he could have done anything less, and maybe that was because he really couldn't have.

* * *

It was sunny outside. Rusty had been expecting it to rain. It always rained at funerals in the movies. He'd nearly bought an umbrella, just in case.

He finished combing his hair in the mirror and figured that he looked as presentable as he could possibly manage.

Danny was still sitting on the bed, staring at the floor, shoes still untied, jacket crumpled in a heap next to him and he was twisting his tie through his fingers again and again and again.

Sighing, Rusty crossed the room, kneeling down in front of him and putting his elbows on his knees. "Hey. You need to get ready."

Danny didn't look at him, just carried on winding the tie round his hand.

Rusty reached out and stopped him.

Finally Danny looked up. "Will I have to see him?"

"No." Rusty shook his head quickly. "Closed casket." What he didn't tell Danny – what he was never, ever going to tell Danny – was that his father's body had been burned and mangled almost out of recognition. He wasn't even sure why Danny's mom had felt the need to tell _him_, except that he got that maybe arranging the funeral of the man she'd been in the process of divorcing was a little stressful.

"Good." Danny's fingers closed over his desperately. "You won't leave me today." It wasn't a question, but Rusty shook his head anyway. He had hardly left Danny's side in the last four days. In fact the only time had been when he'd had to go into town to buy this suit. He hadn't owned anything suitable. And it had been bought. That had seemed important. Even though the money wasn't . . . it _had_ been bought. He hadn't left Danny until he was certain that Danny's mom was there, and was going to stay there. And even then, he'd come back to find that Danny had locked himself in the bathroom and it had taken Rusty nearly half an hour to talk him out.

He'd be there as long as Danny needed or wanted him. He just wished that there was more he could do.

"I won't leave you." he promised, leaning in closer, his arms still folded across Danny's knees. "But I'm not tying your shoelaces."

Danny blinked, and almost smiled. "Good. Because _that_ would be strange." he said, in a dry tone that almost sounded Danny-like.

He stood back and let Danny fix his own shoes and jacket. "Tie." he prompted, when Danny looked like he thought he was set.

"Oh." Danny glanced down at the tie, wound tightly round his hand. "I couldn't get it straight earlier. Stupid thing's broken or something." Rusty frowned at the sharp edge of frustration in Danny's tone, that he'd been hearing more and more often over the past couple of days.

"It isn't broken." he said, voice entirely neutral. It was a tie. They couldn't break like that. "Give it here." Danny handed it over and he pulled it around his own neck. Okay, Danny was _that_ much taller than him, so the long bit should be, say, _that_ long. He tied the knot but didn't pull it tight. "There we go." he said, pulling it over his head and passing it back to Danny who blinked, put it on and slid the knot up to his collar.

"I've never even seen you wear a tie." Danny said, staring at him, as he reached over and made sure it was straight.

"I'm full of surprises." Rusty pointed out. Actually the sales assistant had shown him how, when he'd bought the suit. For once he'd told the truth, or a bit of it at any rate, and the man had fallen over himself to be helpful.

There was a sudden knocking at the door, and Danny's mom's voice. "Daniel? Are you two ready? We need to go."

Danny headed towards the door, but Rusty caught his arm quickly. "Danny. I won't leave." he promised again.

Danny looked back at him and nodded.

* * *

The funeral was everything that Danny had known it would be. He hadn't gone to the viewing the previous evening – the very thought of it sent shivers down his spine – and no, he had no idea what Rusty had said to his mom to get him out of it, but there was one more debt that he'd never be able to pay to the one person who would never think of making him. This, though, was the first time that he'd experienced the closeness, the overwhelming smell of flowers, the crowds of people.

Distant relatives, his dad's work colleagues, old college buddies, ex-tennis partners . . . Danny recognised hardly any of them, and he knew that they only recognised him because of context. Rusty was at his shoulder the whole time _(thank god, thank god, thank god)_ and Danny lost count of the number of times he heard someone say curiously "But I thought Luke only had one son?"

He had no idea what had been said during the service, or the eulogy. If it hadn't been for his mother's occasional glares, and Rusty's constant reassuring touch on his elbow, he doubted that he would have managed to stand and sit at the right times. And how he got through standing and letting all those strangers shake his hand he'd never know. They were all terribly sorry. They all said he was going to be all right, and that it would all get better with time. Luckily Danny had half a lifetime's experience of smiling at people and telling them what they wanted to hear.

Now his house was full of them, standing, chatting, drinking and eating vol au vents and he hated every last one of them. His mother was standing in the middle of the room, talking business with a couple of executive types. The perfect society hostess. Networking. At his dad's funeral.

Still, at least she was keeping well away from his grandmother. For a moment it had seemed as though they were going to come to blows at the graveside, before the funeral director had stepped in, looking like he dealt with this sort of thing everyday. Hell, maybe he did. Grandmother had been screaming about how his mom had never appreciated Luke, and that she knew that she was glad he'd died before the divorce came through, since she'd get the money. Something like that anyway. Danny hadn't really been listening, but it nearly always came down to money. He was prepared to concede that maybe Grandmother had a good excuse for smelling of gin today though.

He followed Rusty through the crowds of revellers, pretty certain that Rusty wasn't actually going anywhere in particular, just making sure that they weren't standing still long enough for anyone to try and talk to Danny. His mom had talked to them that morning. Well, she'd been talking to Danny, but she'd been looking at Rusty. Apparently they had to stay downstairs and be seen for at least an hour. It had been forty minutes now, and thanks to Rusty's efforts no-one had actually had a chance to speak to them. Unfortunately they still had to hear. Unsurprisingly, a lot of the mourners wanted to rehash old history.

"_Ten years, you say? Damn, how did he keep a bit on the side hidden for that long? My wife found out after three months."_

"_You know Luke. He was sneaky like that. If he could hide everything from the IRS, you bet he could hide Emma from Barbara."_

Rusty quickly steered them away from the two talkers – men from his dad's work, Danny would guess, but truthfully he probably wouldn't have recognised them if he'd met them a hundred times before. But everyone was talking about the same things, and Danny hated them even more.

"_She was pregnant, you know." _

Okay. That was different. He stopped dead, and Rusty turned back and laid an urgent hand on his arm.

Danny turned to look at the speaker, a woman in a dark, flowery dress. He thought she was a friend of his mother's. "Three months, the doctors reckon. I heard it from Colin, you know his brother's a pathologist."

Her friend giggled. "Who would have thought that Luke still had it in him?"

They suddenly caught sight of him and coloured guiltily, but he didn't wait around to hear their apologies. That was it. That was just a little too much, he had to get out of here now.

Ignoring Rusty's fast-spoken, soothing words, he ran into the kitchen, surprising the caterers. He searched through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. The bottle of vodka that Dad had left there. His mother didn't drink it, hadn't wanted it in the drinks cabinet. She'd had some idea about using it in cooking.

He turned and caught Rusty staring from the bottle to him.

"I'm going to get drunk." he told him. "You coming with?" It wasn't a question. Rusty had promised.

Rusty nodded and followed him out the backdoor.

He headed up the hill to the old abandoned house. There were signs all around saying that it was dangerous, but they'd played there all the time when they were kids, being pirates and spies and astronauts and dragons, and more recently they lay out on what had been the roof and smoked where they could be certain that no-one could see them.

Danny climbed up onto the roof now and sat down. Rusty joined him after a couple of moments.

The bottle was three quarters empty, but it was still surprisingly difficult to wrench the lid off. And the stuff inside was even more difficult to swallow. When he'd had his fill, he passed it over to Rusty. "Drink."

"Danny . . . "

"Drink." he repeated, and Rusty took a sip. He barely got a mouthful, but he immediately handed it back.

Danny nodded and took another long gulp. This one was easier. Burned a little less. "I was going to be a big brother." he said, wonderingly.

"Do you – "

" – Yes." He wanted to talk about it. "It would have been . . . we would have taught that kid so much, you know? It would have been amazing. Should have been. We'd have taught him how to talk to girls. How to whistle. I'd have taught him how to do wheelies on his bike. You could have taught him how to ride a skateboard. And he'd never have needed to know the other stuff."

"But we would have taught him anyway." Rusty pointed out. "Just in case."

Danny looked at him for a long moment, and nodded. "Yeah. Just in case." He took another drink. "He'd never have to deal with things on his own. He'd always know that someone was there for him. That someone loved him."

"He wouldn't need to be scared." Rusty said, lighting a cigarette and offering Danny the packet.

"Never." Danny agreed, shoving it away. "Should have been that way."

"Danny – "

"It should have been that way!" he leapt to his feet, pacing up and down, and he could feel the building swaying beneath him. He spun to face his friend. "They all keep saying it's going to be all right. It's not. It's not all right, Rusty!" He was yelling, and he didn't even understand why, but he was furious.

Breathing hard, trying to calm down he put the bottle to his lips again, but it was empty. "It isn't fair!"

He threw the bottle at the wall and watched the shattered glass fall like rain.

* * *

**As I said, little bit angsty. And this is actually the less emotionally charged half. Next part, with any luck in a couple of days. **

**All comments and criticisms greatly appreciated.**


	9. Other Nightmares Part Two

**This chapter comes with an apology and a warning of distressing themes. **

**I'm sorry.**

* * *

He'd left the kitchen door open, and as he cooked he kept an eye on the living room where Danny was sleeping on the sofa.

Two hours since Danny had nodded off while they'd been watching cartoons and Rusty had tucked the comforter around him. It was the longest bit of uninterrupted sleep Danny had got in the week since his dad had died, and Rusty could only hope that it would last at least a few more hours. Because tomorrow they were going back to school, whether he thought it was a good idea or not, and Rusty wasn't going to be able to spend all his time at Danny's side when that happened. From what Danny's mother had said, Attwood had arranged for Danny to get all the breaks he needed; but no more time.

He yawned, and flipped the sandwich over in the pan. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Not the most interesting food, and they'd be worse reheated, but coaxing Danny into eating was as difficult as coaxing him into resting. Having something prepared could only help. If he could only keep his eyes open long enough to avoid burning them.

There was a cough from behind him. He dropped the spatula and sprang away from the stove. Stupid. So stupid.

Danny's mother was standing there, watching him blankly. She'd been working late again and he hadn't really expected to see her.

He smiled easily. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ocean. You startled me."

"I see." Her voice was expressionless, and he knew that she did see. He wasn't naïve enough not to know that Danny had told her long ago.

"Danny's asleep." he nodded towards the living room.

She looked through the door, but made no motion to go through. He watched her carefully, and wondered exactly what she wanted from him. "I'm glad he's eating." She glanced at the sink. Oh, god, he hadn't got rid of the cereal dish from that morning. He'd only been able to persuade Danny to eat a few spoonfuls of multi-coloured whatever before Danny had dumped the dish in the sink, and Rusty had just left it there.

"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up." he promised, and tried to dart past her to the sink. "I'm sorry." he repeated, but she was staring over his shoulder. He turned and saw the pillar of black smoke rising from the pan.

Swearing, he pulled the pan off the heat and flipped the blackened sandwich into the bin. Cautiously he examined the bottom of the pan and pulled a face. Ruined.

There was a noise behind him, and he jumped again and the pan clattered to the floor. Danny's mother. He'd forgotten. Great. Just great. "I'm sorry." he repeated, picking up the pan and putting it in the sink to cool down.

"It's fine." she said, and paused, frowning at him. He stepped back, surreptitiously. "Actually, I'm glad, in a way. Believe me, Robert, I'm happy that you're getting Danny to eat. But breakfast cereal and grilled cheese sandwiches don't exactly make a balanced diet."

It was Rusty's turn to frown, and he turned his head to the side, studying her carefully. "I'm sorry?"

""It's important to get a proper balance of the basic food groups. Every day should involve protein – that's meat and fish, Robert" she added, seeing his blank look, "Carbohydrates – that's bread, pasta and rice – as well as dairy products and plenty of fruit and vegetables and not too much salt or sugar."

"Oh." was about all he could manage to say. He _just_ managed to stifle a yawn.

She frowned at him again. "Danny's still growing. It's important that he gets the proper nutrition. Proper cooked meals are essential, if you want what's best for Danny."

Ah. Well. He lived on spaghetti hoops and potato chips for a reason. "I don't know how to cook."

And there was a look that he was far too tired to try and identify. "I'll show you. And there are recipe books on that shelf there." She crossed to the fridge and started pulling out ingredients and laying them on the counter. "Risotto, I think."

"Uh, Danny doesn't like mushrooms." he said, nodding at the bag in her hand.

She stared at him blankly. "Oh." There was a pause and she stared at the pile of food. "He does like everything else there, though?"

He nodded and she seemed to relax a little. "Very good. The first thing to do is to . . . "

There was a muffled cry from the living room. Instantly Rusty turned away and went through to Danny, aware of Danny's mom watching him go.

By the time Danny had fallen asleep again, after a long and wordless conversation, she had vanished, presumably into her study. With a sigh he went back into the kitchen and pulled down a recipe book.

* * *

They were on the roof of the abandoned house again. He was spinning the unopened vodka bottle in the dust. Rusty was lying on his stomach, flicking pebbles off the edge.

For the third day in a row they had come straight here after school instead of heading home. School had been . . . actually Danny had no idea how school had been. He spent his time staring out the window, and he hadn't handed in any work. No-one had said anything.

Silence. Seemed to be everywhere these days. The teachers didn't say anything when he didn't say anything to them. His mother hadn't said anything when she'd given him a hundred dollars yesterday, for no reason he could see. Tommy Owen hadn't said anything when they'd met him after school and handed over fifteen dollars for the alcohol his older brother had bought for them . . . for Danny. And Rusty hadn't said anything as they walked up the hill, though that still felt different.

And, yes, okay, so he'd not been talking either. But he wanted to now. He leant the bottle against the wall. "I didn't hate him, you know."

There was a pause and then Rusty rolled onto his back before sitting up and regarding Danny evenly. "Of course you didn't."

But there was no 'of course' about it, and they both knew that. "I said I did. The last time I spoke to him."

"Danny – "

" – Two days before . . . he phoned me to say that he wouldn't be able to see me over Thanksgiving. He and Emma were going out of the country."

"He knew you didn't hate him, Danny." Rusty said quietly, and Danny wondered how Rusty always knew what he needed to know.

"Really?" he asked and hated the desperation in his voice.

"Of course he did." Rusty moved closer to him, gaze perfectly steady. "You hear the kids talking in school. Everyone says that they hate their parents sometimes. If they believed it every time." he shrugged. "There'd be a lot of pretty fucked-up adults walking around. He knew you were just angry."

"It hurt." Danny said quietly after a moment.

"Yeah."

"He'd promised." he laughed bitterly. "But who keeps their promises anyway, right?"

He reached for the bottle and untwisted the cap.

"Danny . . . " Rusty sighed.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing." Rusty said quickly and Danny looked away from him and poured himself a drink.

* * *

Danny leaned on the restroom sink and studied his reflection in the mirror. No doubt about it, that was definitely a black eye forming. And there was a lot of blood around his mouth. He wiped at it with a paper towel and winced.

"Hurts less if you dab." Rusty's voice came from the doorway.

He turned round slowly. "You should see the other guy."

"I have. You look worse." Rusty answered, crossing over and taking the towel out of his hand.

"Still won though." Danny pointed out, smugly, as Rusty ran the towels under cold water and held them to his face.

"Uh huh."

"I did. I beat the crap out of him – "

" – once he'd finished beating the crap out of you. I know. I heard."

There'd been a certain tone to Rusty's voice, and Danny frowned. "Hey, it was Buzz Fairley. Not like he couldn't defend himself."

Rusty grabbed Danny's jaw gently and turned his head to the side, frowning at whatever he was seeing. "You need the nurse's office."

"I think they might guess I've been fighting." Danny pointed out.

"Hate to break it to you, but that one's all over school. Principal Miller's going to be calling you up to his office next period."

Oh well. His thumb traced a pattern over the bruises on his knuckles. "That's – "

" – Taken care of." Rusty interrupted. "I took care of it."

Danny stared at him. "How?" he demanded.

Rusty brushed past him towards the sink and splashed some cold water into his face. "Found some people willing to say that they'd seen Buzz throw the first punch."

"He didn't." Danny pointed out harshly.

"I know." Rusty leaned against the sink and rubbed at his eyes. "But with his record, and . . . everything, you probably won't even get detention."

Unaccountably furious, Danny pushed himself away from the wall suddenly, and glared down at Rusty. "Are you ever going to let me make my own mistakes?"

Rusty met his gaze steadily. "Probably not."

"I don't need you." Danny yelled, and he could hear the lie in his own voice as clear as daylight.

There was a long silence. Danny closed his eyes and tried not to cry. "I didn't mean it." he whispered, and Rusty said "I know." at the exact same moment, and Danny couldn't quite figure out which he was agreeing with. But when they turned to walk out of the restroom and head to the nurse's office, Rusty's arm brushed against his, and they were walking in step, and he told himself over and over that it was all going to be okay.

* * *

Personally, Rusty couldn't understand how it was any of their business where he spent his time, as long as he turned up to school and did a reasonable amount of work, but apparently no-one else saw it that way. Attwood had called Danny's mom, and she'd told them that she didn't want to see him round at their house that night. He had a sneaking suspicion that the magic word had been used. Social Services. Actually, that was two words.

Anyway, he had promised. She wouldn't see him. He and Danny had agreed that he'd come over when it got dark instead.

So now, for the first time in nearly two weeks he was sneaking back home. He swung the door open quietly and peered into the living room. It was deserted, so he tiptoed inside, shut the door gently, held his breath and listened. There were vodka bottles stacked around the couch, and the sound of snoring coming from behind his dad's closed door. Not particularly good, but it could be worse. If his luck held he'd be out again before his dad woke up. And in the meantime, he should have time to get something to eat and maybe even get in a few hours sleep.

He dumped his stuff in his room and headed into the kitchen. There was a note and five dollars taped to the fridge, both wrinkled enough that he'd guess they'd been there for a while. '_Get some shopping, shithead._' Nice. He shook his head with a kind of exhausted, bewildered amusement and opened the fridge.

There wasn't much there. He pulled out a packet of processed ham and cautiously pulled back the wrapper before immediately recoiling in disgust. Well. That was going straight in the garbage. He should have stopped by Mabel's on the way home. Didn't really know why he hadn't, except that when they'd been in there earlier that week, Danny had yelled at her when she'd offered her sympathy, and though he knew – _knew_ – that as soon as he walked in there she'd be giving him free food and refusing to listen to his apologies, but he also knew the way she'd look at him, and he just couldn't handle it. And he hadn't had the chance to pick up any cash, meaning that anything else was out. So. Stale bread and cheese that looked all right it was.

It took him a while to find a knife, and a little longer to clean it and maybe he was a little too tired, or a little too preoccupied, because he didn't hear the snoring stop, didn't hear his dad's bedroom door open, didn't know until it was far too late.

"So you're back, you little bastard." The voice, hoarse and slurred came from the doorway. He froze. Didn't turn round.

"Yes, sir." Why was he so stupid? He'd known his dad was home, why had he gone into the kitchen where there were no windows and only the one door? He'd let himself be trapped; he really was asking for it.

His dad lumbered further into the room, closer to him, and Rusty could smell the alcohol. The knife was heavy in his hand and he squeezed the handle tightly for a long moment before carefully laying it down and turning round.

His dad was stood there staring at him, wearing a stained shirt and jeans, vodka bottle held loosely in his hand, and Rusty forced himself to stand perfectly still and silent, waiting for him to speak. "There's no clean laundry." his dad said at last.

Yeah. No kidding there was no clean laundry. He hadn't been here for a fortnight, and oddly enough clothes didn't tend to make the trip to the laundrette by themselves. "I'm sorry." he said, quietly, respectfully and sincerely. Sometimes an apology helped. As long as he didn't sound scared.

His dad nodded understandingly and suddenly threw the bottle at the wall and the shattered glass fell like rain.

Rusty flinched and hated himself.

"You think that's good enough? Fuck, boy, why do you never learn?" His dad reached out, and even if he was going down in the face of the inevitable there were still things he could try and fix.

He stepped backwards quickly and held his hands up. "Wait." he said, in his best reasonable tone.

Surprisingly his dad did as he asked, and stood there, head to one side, watching him.

"Listen," Rusty went on in the same tone. The one he used to impress adults with his maturity. "I've got too much going on right now. The last thing I need to be doing is playing games with social services." He swallowed hard and raised his head defiantly. "Keep it off the face, okay? Keep it where I can hide it."

His dad stepped back from him suddenly and in anyone else Rusty would have classed that expression as horror, or even self-loathing.

Whatever was going on, he wasn't one to miss any opportunity, and as soon as his dad moved, he dived past him, heading for the door at full speed.

He'd almost reached it when he felt a hand grasp the collar of his shirt.

* * *

Danny ran into his room and slammed the door shut. Not that he thought she'd notice for a second. With trembling hands he reached under the bed and pulled out the bottle. Then he swore; there was less than a quarter left. If he was going to be dealing with his mom this weekend he was going to need considerably more.

She'd called him selfish. They'd been watching a movie (Singing in the Rain, and he'd never admit to anyone other than Rusty how much he liked that film.) and she'd started in on how people were beginning to talk. How Juliet Darcey had said she'd seen him smoking with That Boy yesterday. And not for the first time his mom had carefully explained how everything he did reflected on her. She'd told him he should be getting over everything now, that he was just indulging himself, dragging his problems out. That he was selfish. Like his father.

And then the phone had rang, and she'd gone to the study to answer it, and Danny had run upstairs and headed for the bottle and wished that Rusty was there.

* * *

He limped over to the side of the road and carefully lowered himself to sit on the edge of the sidewalk. His dad had done what he'd asked – well, almost. He had one small bump on his forehead, courtesy of the doorframe, but if he brushed his hair down in just the right way, he was pretty sure it was covered. Which meant that, all things considered, things were looking good. He wondered how Danny was faring. There'd been the slight implication that Danny's mom had been planning to try for some quality time. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that was what Danny needed, because Rusty wasn't convinced _he_ was helping in the slightest. Maybe he'd go over tonight and Danny would be sleeping peacefully after a pleasant evening. And maybe he'd be dive-bombed by a flying side of ham.

Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. Three left. He'd need to pick up a new packet, but he wasn't up to picking pockets right now. And he didn't have any cash. And he couldn't get cash because he wasn't up to picking pockets right now. And normally Danny could get him some. Except that would involve Danny knowing why he couldn't get his own. And he wasn't going to lay his problems on Danny now. But if he was going to hide things from Danny for the whole weekend, he was going to need more cigarettes. But he couldn't get cigarettes because . . .

He shook his head, trying to fall out of the circle he seemed to be thinking in. After all, he'd figure something out, like always. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, patted his pockets and groaned. Terrific. No lighter. He glanced at the building behind him; he wasn't going back for it.

"Hey! Rusty." At the sound of the voice he turned his head. Buzz Fairley stood there, looking at him. And whoever had actually won, Buzz's bruises really didn't look as bad as Danny's.

"Buzz. Got a light?" he held up his cigarette.

"Ah. Sure." Buzz sat beside him and passed him a matchbook. "Look, I don't know what you heard, but I really didn't want to fight Ocean."

"Uh huh." That actually matched what he heard.

"I mean, I got no problem with him and I heard about his old man, and I don't care what they say about me, I'm not like that. He just wouldn't quit, you know? I mean, if you'd heard what he was saying." Buzz shook his head, "Stuff about my sister and all. But I still walked away, you got that? I walked away and then he swung for me."

"Uh huh." Rusty lit the cigarette and breathed in. That hit the spot. "You got a problem with me?"

"Because you set me up? Nah. I've got a brother. I get it. Figure that makes us even for Ocean. And 'sides, you're, what, twelve? I'm not like that either"

Rusty turned to look at him. "So?"

"So we're even, got it? Don't come after me."

Right. He sighed. "Buzz, you're four years older than me and about twice my size." he pointed out. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do?"

"Jeez, I don't know. But I've heard the rumours and I don't want to know."

He laughed and grasped his side with a grimace. The rumours. Right. Because they could do _anything_.

"Hey, Rusty, man, are you all right?"

"Peachy." he said, straightening up with a grin.

Buzz hesitated. "Was it Ocean? Because I was totally holding back. You want, I'll kick his ass."

"No!" He turned and glared at Buzz. "It wasn't him and don't you go near him. Understand?"

"Cool." Buzz held up his hands. "It's cool." He stood up and paused before walking away. "By the way, you got blood on your face."

Perfect. Just perfect.

* * *

There were no lights in the house except for Danny's window. That was good. It was cold out and if he'd had to wait until Danny's mom went to bed he'd probably have got cranky. He scoured the ground until he found a handful of suitable pebbles. They rattled satisfyingly against the window and after a couple of seconds it opened.

Now he just had to climb the tree. He eyed it doubtfully and corrected himself. He had to climb the tree and not give any vocal indication of how difficult it was going to be. Schooling his face into blankness, he searched his pockets for a moment, found a piece of fluff covered toffee and popped it into his mouth. Disgusting, but better than biting into his lip.

Climbing the tree took longer than it normally would. Usually if he was this beat up he'd get Danny to give him a hand. And until he reached the window and saw Danny slumped against the wall, until he saw the empty bottle, he was surprised that Danny hadn't come to check on him.

He clambered through the window, and managed to avoid wincing when he had to put his full weight on his bad leg for a moment. "How many have you had?" he asked, cautiously, considering the merits of a trip to the Emergency Room. His mom had taught him all about alcohol poisoning at an early age.

Danny looked up at him. Well, that was a good start. He couldn't be that far gone. "A few. Couple of glasses maybe. Wasn't that much left."

"I see." Relieved he sat down on the floor and leaned back against the bed.

"My mom was being . . . my mom was being my mom. And I couldn't take it. You weren't here." There was an accusation in Danny's voice, and Rusty closed his eyes.

"Wish I had been." he said, after a moment.

"Yeah." Danny agreed.

There was a pause, and Rusty realised that he was in danger of nodding off. He stood up, went over to the window and breathed in the cold air. If Danny was drunk he needed to stay awake, make sure he was all right . . . or as all right as he could be.

"Thinking of going out?" Danny asked, coming over to join him.

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm good."

"Could get another bottle. Was thinking, actually, that maybe we should get fake ID."

"Don't think we'd pass for twenty one, Danny." he said lightly.

There was a loud bang as Danny slammed his hand down on the desk. He didn't jump. Didn't. It was Danny. _It was Danny._

"I can pass for eighteen. Eighteen year olds drink." Danny said belligerently.

Rusty swallowed. "Eighteen year olds drink because they pass for twenty one." he said. Something of a simplification, but hopefully Danny would go along with it.

"You think I'm drinking too much, don't you?" Danny asked quietly.

Yes. But he didn't say anything. And when Danny stepped closer, he didn't back away.

"I can handle it." Danny told him.

"Maybe you should cut back." he said.

With a sudden movement Danny stepped away from him and paced up and down the room, swearing loudly.

"Danny, shush. Keep it down, your mom will hear." Rusty begged frantically.

"Like she cares." Danny spat at him. "I'm fed up of people telling me what I should do."

"You never listen anyway." Rusty pointed out, hoping against hope that Danny would pick up what he wasn't saying. What he _always_ wasn't saying. 'I'm on your side. I'm still here, with you.'

Without warning, Danny swung round and lashed out and the crash of his fist against the wall, inches from Rusty's face was a sound that was going to linger.

It was Danny though. He had to remember that. _It was Danny_.

* * *

He woke up with the worst headache of his life and no real idea of what had happened the previous night. He remembered going upstairs after his mom had . . . well, he remembered going upstairs. And he thought that at some point Rusty had arrived. Which was good; at least he wouldn't have done anything too stupid. Wouldn't have had the opportunity; Rusty had been in complete protective-mode lately, and Danny would never say just how grateful he was, how much he needed it, how much it meant to him that Rusty was _there_; but he would have to make sure that Rusty knew, just the same.

Shifting slightly to try and ease the pounding in his head, he decided to stay under the covers for a few more blissful moments. In the future he wouldn't let his mom get to him so much. And he certainly needed to cut back on the vodka. This wasn't worth it.

Eventually he got up. It took time and had to happen in stages, but it did happen. Rusty was sitting at the desk, apparently doing homework, and hadn't seemed to notice Danny. Which was surprising to say the least.

He frowned at his alarm clock and then frowned at the back of Rusty's head. "You do realise it's Saturday morning?"

Rusty turned round sharply. "When did – "

" – Few minutes ago." He wasn't going to be turned aside that easily. "What's with the homework."

Rusty shrugged, but it was a little too awkward and a little too controlled. "Couldn't sleep." Danny's frown deepened; Rusty did look exhausted. And more than that.

"You all right?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. "You look about as good as I feel."

Rusty smiled at him. "Hung-over? My dad swears by . . . " he trailed off awkwardly before adding "Coffee's supposed to help."

Yeah. Not the sort of territory they normally ventured into this early in the morning. "Sounds good. Think I'm swearing off vodka for life, by the way."

Huh. He saw the expression of sheer relief that flickered across Rusty's face. He couldn't have been _that_ bad last night, surely? Then he saw something else. He saw the darkness of a bruise and the hint of dried blood and he sighed and leaned forwards to gently brush the hair off Rusty's forehead so he could get a better look at the damage.

Rusty flinched away from his hand.

They both froze.

Danny stared down in horror at Rusty, who was looking equally panicked. Because Rusty was never afraid of him. Never Ever. Oh, Danny knew how much it took for Rusty to stand still and let an adult get within touching distance, and he knew that in the bad times that extended even to other kids . . . but not Danny. Never Danny. Never Ever. It was a little part of what made them, and it couldn't have changed without him noticing. The world couldn't have changed just like that. Not again.

"Danny – " Rusty began, but Danny couldn't hear the rest because the blood was pounding in his ears.

He remembered. He remembered yelling, remembered Rusty trying to calm him down. He remembered drinking too much, and he remembered yelling. At Rusty. And he remembered hitting the desk, and he remembered his fist slamming into the wall, and oh god, he remembered the look on Rusty's face, but he didn't remember anything else. He didn't remember anything else, but he'd woken up and Rusty had a bruise that he hadn't had yesterday and Rusty was afraid of him.

"No." he whispered, shaking his head and backing away. "No, no, no, no, no."

Rusty stood up and stepped towards him. "Danny. Danny listen to me. I'm sorry. It was my fault, you didn't – "

(Seven year old Rusty looking up at his new friend, with a black eye and a cheerful grin. "I was bad."

Rusty at ten, the two of them sitting on the pavement in the darkness. Danny trying not to stare at the latest collection of bruises. "It was my fault. Should have known better.")

He shook his head. Couldn't listen to this. Not when he'd failed so badly. "No!"

Danny ran.

* * *

Despite the fact that he'd headed away from everything familiar and deliberately tried to find some place he'd never been before, Danny wasn't altogether surprised when Rusty found him within an hour.

He was sitting on a pile of crates and when Rusty limped down the alley towards him he was just too far gone to try and run anymore.

Rusty stopped a little way away from him. "Can I lie to you?" he demanded.

Danny blinked slowly. "What?"

"Have I ever successfully lied to you?" Rusty asked, staring at him like it was the most important question he'd ever asked.

And Danny knew the answer immediately. They'd never been able to lie to each other. They always knew. "No." he admitted.

Rusty nodded. "You didn't hit me." he said emphatically. "It didn't happen, Danny."

He nodded but still wasn't quite convinced.

Rusty sighed. "Do you know who you are?"

What sort of question was that? "Yes?" he offered.

Maintaining eye contact, Rusty pulled his t-shirt over his head and Danny forced himself not to turn away at the sight. Rusty's stomach and chest were mottled with dark bruises and Danny thought about what he'd learned in biology class. Every single one of those was a place where a heavy impact – where a fist - had burst capillaries, letting blood leak out beneath Rusty's skin. "Could you have done this?" Rusty demanded.

Danny closed his eyes and imagined himself, standing over Rusty, his fist slamming into Rusty's body over and over and over. His eyes slammed open and he leaned over the side of the crate and threw up everything that he'd ever eaten. He didn't do that. He couldn't have done that. He knew who he was.

He felt Rusty's hand rubbing his shoulders, and heard Rusty's voice whispering in his ear. "It's going to be all right, Danny. It is. I'm going to make it all right. I promise."

Odd that he believed it, but he did.

Finally he sat back up and wiped his mouth. Rusty had put his shirt back on and Danny looked at him for a long moment. "It was your cooking." he declared.

Rusty smiled slightly. "I'll get better at it."

"Unless we both die of food poisoning first." Danny paused. "You were . . . " Afraid of me. He didn't say it, but they both heard it.

Rusty didn't deny it. "It wasn't your fault." he said instead. "I'm still here."

And Danny knew that he'd been forgiven, by Rusty if not by himself. That would take a lot more.

"I don't know what to do anymore." he said quietly, looking at the ground. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, what I'm supposed to be feeling."

With a slight grunt of pain, Rusty hopped up onto the crate next to him and leaned against him. "Since when did you ever do what you're supposed to do?" he asked quizzically.

Danny smiled, very briefly. "I don't know – "

" – Here's what's going to happen." Rusty interrupted. "We're going to spend today like it was any other Saturday. We're going to wander around and try not to get into any trouble and not think more than five minutes ahead, okay?" That sounded like a good idea. Though personally Danny thought the last two points were probably mutually exclusive. "And then we'll go back to yours, and get a good night's sleep, and we'll find out what happens tomorrow."

He nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Good." Rusty struggled up off the crate. "Which only leaves one question"

Danny raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Where exactly are we?"

He shrugged. "We're in the last place I thought you'd look for me."

Rusty looked at him strangely. "Well, of course it was the last place I looked for you. Why would I keep on looking for you after I found you?"

He shook his head and decided that he didn't want to get involved in that one. "Do we need to go to the hospital?" he asked instead.

"Nah, we need to go to Mabel's." Rusty said grinning. "You need to apologise, and I need to eat."

Laughing, he sprang off the crate and joined Rusty. Then he paused. Because there was still something. "If I – "

" – You didn't." Rusty interrupted him immediately, fiercely.

He knew that. But still. "If I did – "

" – You wouldn't." Rusty said, tight-lipped.

He persisted. "But if I did – "

" - You couldn't!"

He sighed. "Rusty." he begged.

Rusty stared at him for a very long time, and then sighed and seemed to relax. "If you ever hit me, I'll hit you right back." he promised.

"Thank you." Danny said quietly, and he was satisfied.

Because Rusty was still there. And so was he.

* * *

**otherhawk is currently out of service. If you'd like to leave a message she'll get back to you.**


	10. Something more than it should be

**So. There are three things that I want to point out.**

**First of all, this story is actually a little darker than it was originally intended to be. I don't think it's nearly as bad as the last two chapters but still. Anyway, the important thing to remember is that it is all InSilva's fault. So, if you feel that it should have been happier - PM her, not me. And if you wanna know why it's her fault, go read 'More important than that'. Actually, go read that anyway. Whether you already have or not. Because it is amazing.**

**The second thing is that nothing really happens in this chapter. Sorry.**

**The third thing is that this story now has over 100 reviews, and I am incredibly grateful for that. Thank you all.**

**And fourth thing! Edited because ParisAmy kindly pointed out that once again I'd completely failed to mention when this was set. Sorry, I'm useless. Is in fact currently chronologically first. Perhaps eight months before Rusty goes into Care in 'Four day interlude'**

* * *

Danny was glad that he'd brought a jacket. It was only September, but it was _cold_. Mind you, he wasn't normally out this late, on his own or otherwise. Maybe this was normal.

The yelling hadn't stopped, either during dinner or after, and he just hadn't been able to take it anymore. So he'd scrambled down the tree outside his window, which had proved much more difficult than he'd imagined it would be. He'd nearly fallen twice, and the scrapes on his hands were stinging like anything. Still, this was an adventure, and even walking nearly an hour across town hadn't done anything to dampen his enthusiasm.

Staring up at the building _did_ though. The lights were still on in the apartment, so there was no problem there, but he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say if Rusty's dad answered. Which at this time of night was more than likely.

"Little late for you to be out, isn't it?"

He turned round quickly. "I could say the same thing." he said, regarding Rusty evenly. He was sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a doorstep, hiding in the shadows, and Danny could almost, almost understand how he hadn't noticed.

Rusty grinned and Danny took the invitation and sat down beside him. They sat in silence for a while, Rusty watching the lights in the building across the way and Danny trying not to look at the piles of bloodstained tissues dotted around Rusty's feet, and trying not to count the bruises lining his face, and trying not to watch the black eye that he would swear he could almost see swelling in front of him, and trying not to stare too hard at the split lip, or the ragged gash along his cheekbone, and trying not to ask the question.

"So, why are you out?" Rusty asked, at last.

"Same reason you are, I guess." Danny said, absent-mindedly, wriggling against the cold wall, trying to get comfortable.

Rusty nodded understandingly. "They threw you out."

"No!" Danny turned round sharply. "He threw you out?"

"Emphasis on the 'threw'." Rusty said, with a grin that Danny hated, rubbing at the graze on his cheek.

Danny reached out and pulled his hand away. "You'll start it bleeding again." he said quietly and sighed. "He can't do that. You know that, right?"

"Well, he can do that. He did do that." Rusty said, with a shrug. "Don't worry," he added, seemingly on seeing Danny's expression. "He always forgets by morning. I'm just waiting until they go to bed, then I'll sneak back in."

"They? Your mom came back?" Danny asked, before he could stop himself.

Rusty looked at the ground. "No."

Danny offered a silent apology and Rusty granted silent acceptance.

"I suppose I've run away from home." Danny said, after a few moments.

"Uh huh." Rusty said, looking sideways at him. "Aren't you supposed to take a few treasured belongings wrapped up in a handkerchief?"

"Couldn't find one." Danny answered immediately. He'd run with less than fifty cents in his pocket, but to be honest, this was as far as he'd ever expected _(wanted) _to get. And he couldn't say why Rusty made him feel better, but there was something, _this_ was something, and it did, and it was good..

"How bad was it?" Rusty asked and Danny wished that he'd managed to bring himself to ask the question first.

"Oh, you know. The usual." he said, lightly. "I think they've forgotten how to talk in anything less than a bellow, and they're breaking plates faster than they can replace 'em. Oh, and Juliet Darcey saw us getting thrown out of the arcade on Saturday."

Personally, he didn't think it was such a big deal, but not only did his mom think it was, she also seemed to think it was his dad's fault. Something about a lack of proper role models. Honestly, they'd only been fixing the crane game, and it had just been to stop a couple of brats from crying. Though maybe, with the benefit of hindsight, ten plushy toys for a dime was pushing it.

Rusty frowned. "What was Juliet Darcey doing at the arcade?"

"You know, that's what _I_ wanted to know." he agreed. He didn't feel like sharing the rest. Not at the moment. Not quite. Not yet.

Rusty looked at him, and he could see the understanding and the sympathy and the agreement to wait, and he accepted it and countered it with a look that said, quite simply 'Your turn.'

"I didn't catch her name." Rusty said, after a minute. "She laughed a lot though." he added, absently rubbing at the scrape on his cheek again, and as Danny grabbed his hand to make him stop, he wondered, not for the first time, how Rusty was able to treat _his _petty problems as if they in some way compared. Because however bad it got at home, he'd never need to worry about being thrown out on the streets, bruised and bleeding and alone.

"But you are out here." Rusty said quietly. "None of it's right, is it?"

It wasn't a rhetorical question, so Danny shook his head. "No. It's not right."

Rusty sighed. "I don't care, you know that? About the woman. Whoever she is. Mom isn't coming back, and even if she did . . . so what? I don't care."

Danny nodded and pretended that he believed the lie and Rusty smiled and pretended he believed that Danny believed. There were ways of getting through everything, and tomorrow they would still have to be fine.

"A woman called for Dad during dinner." Danny remarked lightly, knowing just what Rusty would pick up on. He paused. "Her name was Emma. She sounded nice."

Rusty looked at him, understanding shining in his eyes, "And – "

" – yeah. Dad said he'd asked her not to call him here. Guess it's been going on for a while." He echoed Rusty, absentmindedly. "I don't care." And he found that it was just a little closer to being true than it should have been. "I don't care." he repeated more forcefully. "Why should I care? They don't want me."

He stopped. He hadn't exactly intended to say that. After a second, he leaned over, leaned on Rusty, and didn't even bother trying to pretend that it was anything other than what it was.

"There's a difference between wanting someone and loving them, I think." Rusty said, quietly, after a long moment. "And they do care about you. You know that. They want what's best for you."

Yeah. They wanted him safe, and normal, and as far from Rusty's influence as possible. "They have no idea what's best for me."

Rusty smiled broadly, and the blood oozed out of his lip and trailed down his chin. "I didn't say they were any good at it." He frowned and looked uncomfortable. "But they do love you."

"You think I should go back?" Danny questioned.

Though Rusty didn't say anything, Danny was left pondering his other options. There weren't many.

"You think I should go back." he concluded. "Guess I don't have any choice."

"You've got choices." Rusty said immediately. "Just no good ones. Trust me; you don't want to try sleeping on the street."

Danny suddenly felt as though someone had yanked the floor out from under him. Rusty's words played over and over again in his mind and he turned and stared at his friend – his ten year old best friend, who deserved so much better – and hoped that he'd misunderstood.

The embarrassed expression that Rusty was wearing, and the way he wouldn't meet his eyes told him he wasn't. "Only twice." Rusty muttered, defensively.

Danny continued to stare. He couldn't help it.

"Once, before I met you." Rusty was staring at his shoes, like they were the most interesting things he'd ever seen. "Just for a couple of days. And this summer, while you were away."

There was so much he wanted to ask; so much that he was going to have to ask at some point. But he could feel the difference between not wanting to talk about it, and not being able to talk about it, so he settled on simply asking; "How long?"

"A week. It wasn't that bad." And there was a lie that hurt

Danny tried to ignore the strange prickling at the back of his eyes. "I'm – "

"Don't you dare apologise!" Rusty said sharply, looking straight at him. "None of it's your fault. You can't fix everything."

He nodded, and pretended he believed it, and wished he could promise that it would never, ever happen again. "Couldn't you tell someone? Please?" There were some times when he wasn't in the slightest bit ashamed to beg. Because no-one ever seemed to listen when Danny pointed out the obvious, but if Rusty would just admit it, they'd have to listen. Wouldn't they?

"Danny." Rusty smiled and shook his head slightly. "It's not that bad." And god, he wished so much that Rusty was lying then. "Lots of people have it worse. Look at Carrie Milne."

She was in Rusty's class, Danny remembered. Had been walking around with her arm in a cast for the last week or so. "She fell off a horse."

"Uh huh." Rusty was still smiling. "And I walked into a door. Several times. Ooh, or maybe I fell down the stairs. That's always a good one."

Danny ignored that. "How did you know?" he asked instead.

"She wasn't that good at hiding it. Hasn't been going on that long, I'd guess. But she told me when I asked, and I took her to Mrs. Jenkins. She's in the System now. Dunno if it'll get any better for her. But hey, a change is as good as a rest, right?"

"So why can't you – " Danny began, frustrated.

" – but that's my point." Rusty interrupted. "I don't have it that bad. At least he's never broken bones."

A feeling of nausea came close to overwhelming him. "Rus' – " There was so much that he wanted to say. So much that he wanted to make clear.

" – Danny." But he took note of the pleading in that voice, and kept quiet.

Instead he leaned his head back against the cold, rough stone behind him, and glanced back to the building opposite. The lights had gone out at some point, but he really didn't feel like pointing that out.

After a while he started talking. "It wasn't really any different from normal, you know?" He considered. "Maybe a little worse. They broke three plates during dinner, which is a new record. And Emma certainly got them a little more riled up. But really, it was just the usual stuff. Except . . . " He stopped, and turned. Rusty was watching him intently. "Except that while they were arguing, about me, and mom working too much, and dad never being home" (and about Rusty, but he didn't mention that) "Dad said that he'd never wanted kids anyway. And mom agreed."

If he hadn't been watching carefully, and if he didn't know Rusty so well, he would never have noticed the way his face grew perfectly still, or the way that his eyes darkened. Huh. He'd never really seen Rusty look angry before.

He continued. "And I know that they didn't really mean it. Hell, I don't think they even knew I was there. They just wanted something to hurt each other with, and I was handy." He could tell himself that. And he could believe it. Because Rusty was right; in their own way, they did care about him.

"But it hurt." Rusty stated.

"Yeah." he whispered.

Rusty reached out and put his hand on top of Danny's gently and Danny felt himself relax in a way that he didn't even know he was capable of. Because even though he'd often found, or offered comfort and reassurance in leaning against Rusty, or brushing against his arm, or touching his hand; this was the first time that he could remember Rusty initiating it. And yeah, it was all he could do not to start crying and he didn't even understand why.

"I just wanted them to look at my report card." he said, quietly, staring at the sky. 'I just wanted them to look at _me_' he carefully avoided adding, content in the knowledge that Rusty would hear it anyway. But he couldn't say it out loud, because it was pathetic and childish and at the age of twelve he should have outgrown the stupid need for his parents' attention. Because he was never going to get it.

He relaxed still further as Rusty squeezed his hand, and they sat in almost contented silence.

"You got your report card back?" Rusty asked at last. "How did you do in history? Did that project bring your mark back up?"

Danny turned and stared at him. Stared at his best friend sitting in the dark and the cold, blood on his face, genuinely concerned and interested, asking the questions that he'd been so desperate to hear from his parents and suddenly he knew exactly why he always sought Rusty out, knew exactly why being with Rusty made him feel so much better. He knew what _this_ was and more than that he knew that _this_ was going to be forever. And for some reason it was the funniest thing he'd ever known. He started to laugh.

"What? What's so funny?" Rusty demanded. And that only made him laugh harder.

Finally he managed to get control of himself enough to shake his head. "I'll tell you later." he lied, and watched Rusty sigh in frustration. "Yes, history was fine. Managed to get back up to an 'A', so if my parents ever actually enquire, they'll get off my back about it for a while."

Rusty smiled proudly at him, and Danny's newfound knowledge came close to overwhelming him again. "Good." he said, simply.

It was even colder now than it had been before. Rusty obviously hadn't had time to grab a coat, so Danny took his jacket off, and pulled it over both of them. And yes, he noticed the grimace of pain as Rusty moved closer to him.

"You know, they say that these are the best days of our lives." he said, conversationally. His uncle Harold was particularly fond of pointing that out. Apparently they had no real worries and no responsibilities - no problems.

"God help us." Rusty grinned.

"You don't believe in God." Danny pointed out.

"Then I guess we'll have to help ourselves, right?"

Danny nodded, serious where Rusty had been being facetious. Right. They would. Because this was real. And the very newness of that thought was still singing through his head. This was real and this was love and this was forever. And if it was the only good thing in their life, they had to help themselves. Because no-one else was going to.

"So maybe you should get help." he suggested, for the second time that night.

Rusty frowned at him, and Danny realised that even if he had no idea what it was, Rusty knew that something had changed. "No." he said shortly. Then he leaned forwards, and hugged his knees, and the jacket fell off his shoulders, and as he moved out of the shadows, the bruises shone in the moonlight. "Anyway, it really was my fault this time."

Danny closed his eyes and suddenly felt so old. "Do we have to have the conversation again?"

"I'm not talking about what should be, Danny. I'm talking about what is." Rusty said, sounding almost calm. "I was in the living room. I was sitting on his sofa. The light's gone in my room – I had homework – so I was in the living room. But I knew he'd be home. And I knew it was his payday. I could have done the homework on the bus tomorrow. I should have known better."

"Rusty – " Danny stared at his friend, in painful disbelief. _That_ for doing his homework? Rusty caught him staring, and put a hand up as if trying – impossibly trying – to hide the damage, and Danny looked away.

"It was my fault. Should have known better." Rusty repeated stubbornly. "I mean, he's going to hit me, if he sees me. If he's got an excuse, or he's in the mood. I know that. There's nothing I can do about that. So if I make it that easy for him, then it's my fault."

"Do you actually listen to yourself?" Danny asked, desperately.

"I'm just being practical." Rusty said, looking at him, and the expression in his eyes – desperate, hunted – hurt Danny more than his parents ever had. "I mean, maybe he shouldn't hit me - "

Maybe. The word cut Danny like a knife. " - He shouldn't hit you." he said firmly, like he had a hundred times before. A thousand times. "No-one should hit you. And it's _not_ your fault and _you don't deserve it_."

He realised that at some point, somehow, without even being aware of it, he had moved and he was now crouching in front of Rusty staring him in the eye. "You don't deserve it." he repeated and wouldn't let Rusty look away until he nodded. He sighed, stood up and stretched. "One of these days I'm going to say it, and you're going to believe it." he promised. He might not be able to make their lives better in any material way – not yet – but he could do that.

"I almost do." Rusty said quietly. "I should do. It's difficult."

"I know." Danny said gently, before he reached down a hand and helped him up. "Is that place round the corner open this late? I'll buy you a burger."

"It is." Rusty raised his eyebrows. "But do you have any money?"

Ah. "Well, I'll _get_ you a burger, then." he conceded.

Rusty grinned at him. "I'll get you one." he promised.

A burger and a few hours in a warm restaurant, and then they could head back to Danny's for a few hours sleep. And tomorrow would be exactly the same, and nothing was ever solved, but they had _this_. And watching Rusty smiling, and with the realisation of what _this_ really was still fresh in his mind, Danny couldn't help but feel so, so lucky.

* * *

**So, thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed it, even if nothing actually happened. And if you have the time, please let me know what you thought.**


	11. Such a perfect day

**Been a while since I updated this. And here's a timeline for it. And this supercedes any previous timelines on account of how I've given their ages wrong in summaries before on account of how sometimes I forgot to account for birthdays. But this should be one hundred percent right.**

**1. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**2. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**3. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**4. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**5. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**6. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**7. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**8. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**9. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**10. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

Danny woke up right on time and promptly fell asleep again. That was the first sign of what sort of day it was going to be. He was awoken several hours later by the sound of yelling coming from the hallway, and that got him out of bed fast enough. As he pulled on a t-shirt he glanced at the clock and swore. He was late. More than a little. Which meant that Rusty had probably come looking for him.

From the top of the staircase, he could see his mom leaning over Rusty, who was clutching a large envelope to his chest like it was the most important thing he'd ever held. She was still yelling. "I don't want you hanging around my house, is that understood? Normal people can't stand the sight of you, don't you get that? They take one look at you, and they can immediately see where you came from, you filthy little – "

" – Shut up." Danny said quietly and his voice carried maybe just a little bit further than it ever had before.

They both turned to look at him, his mom wearing the same disappointed and contemptuous expression that he saw every day, Rusty with a look of relief and amused pride. Unsurprisingly his mom said nothing, just pursed her lips and swept off. And yes, there was a small part of Danny that was disappointed; the same small part that had once desperately sought her attention would now quite like it if she would talk to him, just once.

Rusty held up the envelope. "From Columbia. For you. She was standing outside when I arrived, holding it and I didn't like the way she was looking at it, so I offered to take it up to you, and, she threw it at me and then, well, things got out of hand."

The surge of excitement at the sight of another letter from Columbia – _his_ College! – was familiar, even though he knew full well it would just be yet more forms to fill out. "Come on up. I need to get dressed." he said, resisting the urge to grab the letter out of Rusty's hands and tear it open.

While Danny hunted through his wardrobe, Rusty sat down on the edge of the bed and rifled through Danny's nightstand.

Danny sighed. "You ate the M&Ms last week, remember? I haven't had a chance to replace them yet."

"I'm hungry." Rusty said with something that might have been an apology in his voice.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there this morning." Danny said quietly, once he was dressed.

"Never been stood up before." Rusty commented with a grin and Danny reflected that was probably true. Girls were queuing up to try and date Rusty, and if Danny himself didn't do quite nicely, thank you, he'd probably have been envious. "Take it your date with Veronica went well last night?"

Danny smiled. Ohhh, yeah. It had. "Sorry anyway." he said seriously. Because while he'd never missed one of their meetings before, Rusty occasionally had, and they both knew why. And the memories of times when Danny had needed to track him down and patch him up must have been in Rusty's mind while he waited. Making Rusty worry was the last thing Danny had ever intended.

Rusty shook his head. "Forget about it." he said, and Danny knew that he'd been understood and forgiven on every level.

Carefully he opened the letter and was indeed confronted with yet more forms. Who'd have thought that leaving home was this difficult? He sighed and stuffed the envelope in his jacket. They could deal with it later. "Is she still out there?" he asked quietly.

After sticking his ear to the door for a few minutes, Rusty shook his head. "We're good."

Okay then. They could go out the front door. Because while he was almost certain that as long as they were together his mom would ignore them both, he couldn't be completely sure. And the risk was unacceptable.

* * *

They wandered into town, Danny feeling in no particular hurry, and said nothing. It was bright and still but their breath hung in the air like mist and Danny resolved to spend no more time than necessary outdoors today. He hated the cold. Shouldn't be too difficult; all they had to do today was finish the Bernie Carbo thing at the pawnshop.

"I need to swing by the bank first." Rusty said suddenly, and he should have known there'd be something else.

The branch that they were keeping under the impression that Rusty was Daniel Ocean was a little out of the way, so Danny kind of hoped that it would be something he could take care of. "Is it – "

" – No." Rusty shook his head. "My dad's bank. Power bill."

Oh. He grimaced. "Can't it wait till he gets back?"

"Third red letter. Don't want them to cut us off again." And Rusty sounded tired and there was some awkward hesitation in his voice.

"What?" Danny asked, knowing there was something more.

Rusty paused. "I need ten dollars."

Danny gave him a look that hopefully reminded him that he only ever had to mention and handed over the ten bucks. Then he frowned, because even though most of what they made went in the bank account they'd set up in Danny's name, by unspoken agreement they both kept some back and Rusty should have had enough. "You had – "

" – landlord came round – " Rusty explained.

And Rusty's dad hadn't been there for over a week now. " – he must have noticed – "

Rusty shrugged. " – he doesn't care. Just wanted the rent." And so he had paid the rent and would pay the heating bill out of his own pocket (Well, okay, technically other people's pockets) and Danny was somehow suddenly aware of just how wrong their life really was.

"You should take the Bernie Carbo money." he said firmly.

"No." Rusty said, equally determined.

"Rus' – "

" – Danny."

They paused outside the bank door, staring at each other, neither willing to back down.

"Look." Rusty said finally. "You're the one who said that we needed to make sure we didn't get too caught up in worrying about money to have fun."

"Rent and heating come first."

"But they'll be paid." Rusty said patiently. "Which means that I won't need to worry about them for a while, and dad will probably come home at some point and he'll probably remember to pay next month. You know he normally does."

Except for when he didn't, and as far as Danny could tell he'd never even notice or care that his son was paying his debts. "I don't – "

Rusty sighed. " – You want to take Veronica to the Formal, right?"

"Yes." he agreed.

"And so we set this up so you'd have money to do it properly. Just like we set up that pigeon drop last month to get me money for the field trip."

"We did that because it was fun." Danny corrected.

Rusty grinned. "True." He paused. "It can't be all about the money, Danny. That's not who we are."

"And being who we are involves taking Veronica to the Formal?" he asked, amused.

"Uh huh." Rusty grinned wider. "And while we're at it, it involves taking Alice to the movies on Friday, so I think I'd like to get some cash too."

And he'd been hoping that they wouldn't have to spend too much time outdoors. Still, the movies wouldn't cost too much. One quick lift, in all probability. "We can get one on the way back from the pawnshop." he suggested.

"I need to get some shopping as well." Rusty said casually.

In other words he needed to buy enough food and supplies to last until his dad came back. (Whenever that would be. They still had a few weeks before they'd start having the conversation about what they'd do if this time he just didn't come back. And Danny was keeping his fingers crossed.) Okay, maybe they'd need to get a few wallets then. He nodded, and Rusty disappeared into the bank to pay the bill. Oddly, they'd probably be less suspicious of a fourteen year old than of the pair of them; Rusty was good at the whole 'My dad just sent me in to take care of this' lie.

Rusty didn't take more than a couple of minutes, and when he reappeared he had a worryingly wide selection of complimentary pens and stickers.

"Overdo it?" Danny asked.

"Maybe a little." Rusty admitted. "I was hoping they gave out lollipops."

"Think that's the dentist." Danny mused.

"And that's just a ploy to force you back." Rusty frowned slightly. "I didn't include medical stuff on the budget."

"So we won't get sick." Danny answered immediately. Problem solved.

Rusty didn't think so. "We might need to think about – "

" – Insurance fraud?" Danny suggested. "Yeah, I know." He'd been turning the idea over in his mind for a while.

Rusty nodded and Danny knew that now they were both thinking about it. They'd get it figured out eventually. Pausing, Rusty pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes and stared at them in surprise.

"What?" Danny asked.

"Didn't include these on my budget either." Rusty said in consternation.

Danny blinked. "Well – "

" – How much are you smoking these days anyway." Rusty asked, not listening to him.

"Couple of packs a week." he shrugged. "But – "

" – And I'm on about half a pack a day." He ignored the disapproving look that Danny gave him. "So that means that it costs - "

" - Rus' -" Danny interrupted quietly.

Rusty continued, frowning. " – Actually, how much does a pack sell for these days?"

"Rusty." he said, a little louder and this time Rusty actually paid attention.

"What?"

"When's the last time you bought cigarettes?" Danny asked patiently.

"Oh. _Oh_." Rusty grinned. "Well, I should just forget the whole thing, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah." Danny said and maybe it was just a little patronising. But honestly, they never bought them. Because if they were going into people's pockets and purses anyway, why not take what they wanted?

* * *

After that they walked the five blocks to the pawnbroker in silence, and once they were just round the corner, Rusty smoothed down his hair and turned to Danny with a frown. "How do I look?"

Danny inspected him. Clean and neat, but dressed in shabby clothes; probably ones that he'd bought from the Goodwill in order to keep up the pretence to his dad that all he had was what he was given. Which, Danny thought was probably straining credibility a little, as the last time that Rusty's dad had given him money to buy clothes Rusty had been twelve. Still, Rusty knew best how to avoid any triggers and it wasn't like the clothes didn't come in handy. "Same as last week." Danny assured him. That was the point after all; consistency.

Rusty grinned and disappeared round the corner. Danny hung back, fully aware that they couldn't be seen together, but still hating this bit. While he was waiting he smoked a cigarette and thought about the Bernie Carbo card scam.

It was simple enough. A week ago Rusty had pawned a baseball collection that they'd scraped together by asking around at school for people's duplicate and unwanted cards. He'd spun a hard luck story and got a grand total of three dollars. Three days ago, Danny had gone into the shop and spied the collection and made a huge fuss over an 'autographed' 1975 Bernie Carbo card. (Rusty had spent nearly three hours painstakingly tracing the signature from Jon Oatman's prized autograph book and Danny had needed to try really hard not to react when, after barely forty five minutes, Jon had leaned over to him and whispered; "He's a bit of a geek, isn't he?") But he'd insisted that this card was exactly what he needed to complete his collection, and in his best spoiled rich kid impression, had demanded that the guy sell it to him. And he'd offered first twenty, then forty, then a hundred dollars. Of course, the guy wasn't at liberty to sell, but Danny could see that it was driving him crazy and when he'd left a phone number and extracted a promise that the guy would call him if the card became available, Danny was sure that they had him. Now Rusty was going back in to get his cards back, and the guy was bound to offer him at least forty dollars. After a certain amount of haggling of course. Simple and with an elegance that pleased him. And if it worked with baseball cards, then when they got to New York they could work on doing it with things that might actually be thought to have value.

He was in a good moment, right up until Rusty came back round the corner, holding the baseball cards and shaking his head.

"What happened?" Danny asked, reading the defeat immediately. Also the amusement.

"We must have found the only honest pawnbroker in the state." Rusty said cheerfully.

Danny blinked. "You're kidding."

Rusty produced the scrap of paper that Danny had written the fake number on. "He even gave me this. Told me that I should sell to you. Said you'd give me a hundred."

Oh, this was ridiculous. He'd been so sure that this play would work. "Think he suspected?"

"No." Rusty shook his head firmly. "I think we just didn't have a contingency for honesty."

Danny pulled a face. "Well, it's not like it's that common."

Rusty shrugged. "I say we find another pawnshop and try again."

Brilliant, except that it would have an impact on his plans for Veronica. "But we won't be in time for – "

" – So we spend today getting a few more wallets than we'd planned. We can deal."

And as soon as Rusty said that, the sky opened and the rain came down in sheets. They looked at each other for a long moment and then, in complete agreement, made a run for Mabel's.

* * *

The diner was nearly deserted and as they stood in the doorway, trying not to drip too much on the floor, Mabel came running over with a couple of towels. "Come on, dry yourselves off. What are you doing out in this anyway? Didn't you listen to the forecast this morning?"

"No." they said in unison. "Sorry." Rusty added, and Danny shook his head at him.

"Well, come in and sit down anyway." She ushered them to their usual booth. "Now, coffee? Hot chocolate? Something to eat?"

"Coffee and a club sandwich please, Mabel." Danny said immediately.

"Could I get the meatloaf? And a double order of fries? And a hot chocolate, and a banana milkshake, and a piece of cherry pie to follow? And a muffin?"

They'd been coming here for seven years; Mabel didn't even blink. "Sure you can, honey. Be right back."

As she walked away, and as rubbed the last few drips of rain out of his hair, Danny leaned back and prepared to have the conversation that they'd been putting off since that morning.

Rusty interrupted him before he'd even opened his mouth. "It's not important."

"It's a little important." Danny disagreed.

"You're not responsible for what your mom says." Rusty pointed out calmly.

Danny stared at him intently. "My mom's an idiot. Always has been."

"Yep." Rusty nodded and Danny took no offence. Because it was true.

"I hate that she said that to you." he said quietly. Mabel carried their drinks over, and, seeming to sense the tension, left them alone with only a few fond smiles. There was a long silence broken only by Danny stirring his coffee and Rusty slurping his milkshake. And Danny knew he only did that to be annoying.

Finally, Rusty looked up at him. "I get worse at – "

" – Really not the point, Rus'." he interrupted

Rusty shrugged. "Yeah. I know."

"She won't even talk to me and she's yelling at you? What's that?" Danny went on.

"Idiocy." Rusty answered promptly

"Right." Danny paused and stared out of the window at the rain. "You know that she's wrong." he said, casually, hoping that was enough to get it by Rusty.

He could feel Rusty looking at him, but he didn't – couldn't – look round. There was a brief silence. "You tell me everyday." Rusty said finally and entirely offhandedly.

Danny relaxed and Mabel brought the food over. Rusty immediately tore into it and Danny turned to look at him thoughtfully.

After a few moments, and when half the fries were gone, Rusty noticed and looked up. "What? I'm still growing." he pointed out defensively.

"You'd better hope so." Danny said absently, because that wasn't it. "When was the last time you ate?"

"Yesterday." Rusty admitted after a long moment. "Lunchtime. Didn't realise that there was nothing in the fridge until after dark, and there's been a lot of stuff going on in my neighbourhood lately. Guy got stabbed. I was being careful."

Danny closed his eyes and tried not to think 'You were scared'. Because right now he himself was terrified. "Eat up." he said, finally. "You're still growing."

Rusty grinned and they finished their meal in silence.

* * *

After lunch they divided the forms between them to fill in. It was a little amusing to watch Rusty write in his handwriting. Because Danny recognised that he changed the way he held a pen to the way that Danny did. Even his facial expressions reflected the ones that Danny saw in the mirror. It was a little odd, but Danny was comfortable with it. Just another aspect of Rusty.

"These ones need your mom's signature." Rusty announced, waving a thick pile. "This would be so much easier if you were going to be eighteen."

"Forgive me for having the wrong birthday." Danny said. "Go ahead."

Rusty scrawled Danny's mom's name across the papers. And Danny did the same, and sometimes they had to sign Danny's name instead. And not for the first time Danny felt an irrational gratitude that he didn't have to do this on his own.

Of course, what with the power bill and the Bernie Carbo being a complete wash-out, and them not having had a chance to lift any wallets yet, lunch was most definitely on Danny. Which made it doubly awkward when he stood in front of Mabel patting his pockets frantically.

"Left your wallet at home?" she asked, sympathetically.

He turned to stare at Rusty. "You did have it." Rusty told him. "Remember? You gave me that money."

Right. So he'd had it then. And it couldn't have fallen out of his pocket; he just wasn't that careless. "You didn't – " he began hopefully. Maybe this was just a practical joke.

" – No." And Rusty wasn't lying and was sympathetic and a little worried. "Danny I don't – "

" – Have any money, I know." Danny tried to smile reassuringly at him but it was a little difficult through the mixture of panic and embarrassment he was feeling. He turned back round. "Mabel I am so, so sorry."

"Oh, honey, don't worry. This area's had major problems with pickpockets for _years_ now." Yeah. They knew. "You just forget about it, and go tell the cops. Maybe someone will hand it in."

He doubted that. "We'll pay you back." he promised.

She smiled at both of them. "You don't need to bother. Such good boys. The two of you are my very best customers."

Danny looked at her and thought about how she always insisted that it was perfectly normal for dessert to be free if they finished up their main courses - including their greens –and reflected that she was probably the only reason that Rusty's diet could be considered remotely healthy. And he thought about how she'd gone to the bother of making him homemade vegetable soup specially, when he'd been recovering from appendicitis and that had been what he'd been craving. And he thought about how she'd baked that cake for Rusty's ninth birthday, and Rusty had told him later it had been his first ever birthday cake. And he didn't know if she knew, but she'd never missed making a cake for either of their birthdays after that. She'd done so much for them over the years, and her place never did good business and in just a few months they'd be gone and they'd never see her again and they'd never be able to repay any of the important things. "We'll pay you back." he promised again and he let the gratitude bleed out into his voice and his smile and his eyes.

"We will." Rusty said sincerely and Danny didn't have to look to see the same gratitude, the same thoughts and feelings.

She seemed to get some of it at least and she smiled back at them. "If that's what you want to do."

"Thank you, Mabel." they said together, low and sincere and for once they meant it.

She shook her head and stared at them. "Such good boys." she whispered as they headed out the door. The rain had stopped at least.

They stood together and looked round and Danny casually rested his elbow on Rusty's shoulder and they felt happy and said nothing.

"So, cash?" Danny asked eventually

"Park?" Rusty suggested.

Danny nodded. After the rain it wouldn't be too busy but there'd be some people there and it would be easy enough to make a couple of lifts. "Sure." he agreed.

They started heading over. "I don't believe that you didn't notice someone stealing your wallet." Rusty said, and Danny had known that he wouldn't let that one go.

"You checked your pockets?" he asked. After all, if it could happen to him . . . He was amused by the sight of Rusty quickly patting himself down, but less amused by the triumphant production of Rusty's wallet.

"Just you." Rusty told him happily

"Probably figured you have nothing worth stealing." Danny said nastily but Rusty just grinned.

"Did they get anything important?" And Danny knew he didn't mean money.

He thought for a few minutes. "One ID. Brian Harris. I'll need a replacement. Couple of phone numbers – nothing that you don't know, but I'll need you to write them out for me again. Oh, and a condom."

"You can replace that yourself." Rusty said immediately.

He was about to give a snappy answer when he caught sight of a well dressed man a little way ahead of them, shaking out his umbrella. Perfect target. "Would you get a move on? You heard what mom said." he snapped at Rusty immediately.

"Yeah. She said you weren't to be mean to me anymore." Rusty immediately answered back and Danny had to choke back a laugh. He really wished Rusty wouldn't whine when they did this bit; it was just too distracting.

"No, she said that we were to hurry back. Now, what, do you want to get caught in the rain again, moron?" They drew level with their target and he swerved one way and Rusty swerved the other and for a second the man must have thought that they were going to bump into him and then it was over and with any luck it would be hours before he realised he was short a wallet.

"That's it. I'm telling mom!" Rusty yelled immediately and started running off down the path.

Danny swore loudly, and was amused to catch their mark giving him a sympathetic look before he took off after Rusty.

They stopped running once they were absolutely sure that they were out of sight and headed away from the path and behind the band stand. Danny pulled out the wallet and flicked through it. Thirty dollars. Not bad. And there was the man's driver's license – his name was Joseph Marsh – and there was a picture of his family. Danny stopped for a long moment and stared at it and he remembered the other thing that was in his wallet. The thing that he would never, ever, even under pain of death admit to out loud, even to Rusty. The photos they'd had taken three years ago at the fair. Him and Rusty, sticky with cotton candy, giddy with laughter. Now those were irreplaceable.

"The guy will have other photos." Rusty said quietly.

Danny didn't say anything. Because _he_ didn't.

Rusty sighed. "Pass it here." Confused Danny complied and watched as Rusty removed the cash and stuffed it in his pocket. "Get ready to do some yelling." Then he stood up and started running back to where they'd lifted the wallet.

Danny started yelling before the man was back in sight. Just because he had no idea what Rusty was doing didn't mean that he wasn't going to back him up. "Come back here you little runt!"

And then the man was right in front of Rusty, and Danny watched as Rusty looked back at him, and he winced as Rusty banged into the man and crashed to the ground. He ran up hastily. "Jamie! Are you all right?" He actually felt relieved as he watched Rusty pick himself up and dust himself down.

"I'm okay." Rusty promised.

The man – Joseph – stood rubbing his arm and both Rusty and Danny immediately turned to him.

"I'm so sorry." Rusty said, wide eyed.

"Please forgive my little brother sir, he's . . . an idiot." And that was said with a little more meaning than anyone else would ever notice.

"Yes, well." They were both frowned at. "Just try to be more careful in future."

"I will be." Rusty promised and Danny nodded. They would be. Because this was ridiculous.

They stood on the path until the man had strode out of sight. Rusty stared at his grazed hands ruefully. "Could have done that more carefully."

"You shouldn't have done that at all." Danny corrected. "It was far too risky."

"But he's got his photos back." Rusty answered. "And that's good."

"But he got a better look at us. And as you said, he has more photos." Danny shook his head slowly. "Just don't do it again. Please."

Rusty shrugged. Awkwardly, nervously "We can get more pictures. If you'd like."

And the denial that was automatically on the tip of his tongue melted away in the face of Rusty's simple understanding. "Yeah. Thanks."

He cleared his throat and they smiled at each other like summer and then Veronica came round the corner, walking hand in hand with some guy he didn't know.

She stared at him aghast and he stared back. Now this was awkward. "Hi there." he said finally and levelly.

"Danny." she said, and smiled uncomfortably. "This isn't how I wanted you to find out."

"Hey, who's this punk?" the guy said. He was a few years older than Danny, with long hair and a pierced ear and expensive enough clothes that the sight of him made Danny's fingers itch.

"Oh, um, Paul, this is Danny Ocean. Danny this is Paul Hogan." She didn't introduce Rusty. Probably a good thing.

"Right, the high school putz you're taking to that stupid dance?" Paul said dismissively.

It was on the tip of Danny's tongue to point out that he'd also taken her to the drive thru yesterday evening and they'd stayed for a long and marvellous hour after the movie stopped rolling, but Rusty's warning glare prevented him. Though honestly, he was pretty sure that he could take this guy if he had to. "The guy who _was_ taking her to the Formal." he corrected instead.

Veronica flushed angrily. "Can I talk to you for a couple of minutes, Danny?" she asked sweetly. They stepped away from Rusty and Paul. "Listen, Paul's in college. He plays in a band. Lead guitar. You understand, right? I mean, I like you, but he's in_ college_. It's completely different."

"Fine." he assured her and paused. "We're still through though."

She glared at him. "Oh, two weeks and you'll be begging for me to come back."

"Doubt it." he answered flippantly. He didn't beg. Not like she meant.

"Come on." her voice was wheedling. "You can still take me to the Formal. It'll do wonders for your reputation."

"Not the sort of reputation I'm interested in. I'd be more worried about yours." He wasn't exactly planning on making a secret of who did the dumping.

She seemed to take it a different ways. "You haven't told anyone that you and I . . . " Her eyes widened and she trailed off panicked.

Okay, that he could reassure her on. He wasn't a complete bastard after all, even if she was. "No, no-one knows except you and me." And Rusty, but that didn't count and it would just confuse her. "And it's going to stay that way."

"Thank you." she said in a small voice and he nodded and walked away and after a few seconds Rusty fell in step beside him.

"No more dates with Veronica, then." he stated and Danny shook his head.

"No chance." He paused. "Need to get a new date for the Formal."

"Pat isn't going with anyone." Rusty said very, very casually and Danny glared at him. Because Rusty had understood full well why he'd broken up with Patricia – he liked her far too much to stay with her through everything he was doing, and he didn't like her nearly enough to change his plans – but he'd never agreed and he'd never approved.

"No." he answered shortly. "Not going to happen." He thought for a few moments. "Think Ami would go with me if I made it clear it was just as friends?"

Rusty shrugged. "Maybe. But she just broke up with – "

He nodded. " – I heard. That's why I – "

" – Well, she might be more in the mood for ice cream and bitching, that's all." And unfortunately, Rusty tended to know what he was talking about.

"I'll ask her." Couldn't hurt, after all. He sighed. "You know." he began conversationally. "This has been an awful day."

Rusty smiled. "If it helps, Paul and Veronica aren't going to have a good day either." Danny raised an eyebrow and Rusty held up two bulging wallets. "Oops."

Laughing, Danny reflected that there was something to be said for always having someone prepared to go out of their way to make your day that bit better.

If he had to have a bad day at least there was always good company.

* * *

**So there you go, that was fairly long, I thought, and I hope you enjoyed it.**


	12. View from the outside

**Author's disclaimer: Falling like Dominoes? Huh? I'm a completely different otherhawk. Honest.**

**Timeline that I'm going to include in every chapter from now on. If I remember.**

**1. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**2. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**3. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**4. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**5. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**6. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**7. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**8. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**9. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**10. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**11. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

Judy had been on shift for barely an hour and until the kid was brought in it had seemed like it was going to be a dull day. Which, for Paediatrics, was more than a little unusual, but she wasn't going to complain. A nice quiet time was exactly what she was looking for. She'd done a stint in the emergency room the other month, and she'd made the mistake of thinking that being a nurse in the paediatric ward would be less stressful. Yeah. Just before Christmas? She was completely crazy.

The boy – around thirteen, maybe fourteen at a pinch, dark haired, and if his face wasn't screwed up with pain she'd probably have said that he was destined to be a real heartbreaker - he was wheeled in a little after twelve, Dr. Ross and his entourage trailing in his wake. That was all perfectly normal. What was a little less than normal was the kid walking behind them, clearly trying to make sure that he wasn't noticed. A blond scrap of a thing, obviously a few years younger than the patient. Little brother, she decided, seeing the worry and the fear written on his face, and she wondered why he hadn't been told to stay downstairs in the waiting area. That would be the normal procedure. She was about to say something when he noticed her looking and shot her a wide-eyed and imploring look and something made her keep her mouth shut. That was also the first time that she noticed the dark bruise on his cheek and the swollen lip.

The bed was wheeled into place, and Judy stepped forwards to join the throng.

"Now," Dr. Ross was saying. "The important thing in a case of severe abdominal pain is to get a detailed history of symptom progression. Of course, normally in the case of a minor we'd be asking the parent, but unfortunately there is no-one here for this young man at present."

The boy in the bed mumbled something.

Dr. Ross frowned. "What was that?"

"Rusty . . . " the boy said, louder and blondie immediately stepped out from the curtain he'd been hiding behind and ducked past several surprised-looking doctors and made his way to stand by the head of the bed.

"Right here, Danny." he said gently and the patient – Danny – immediately, and with startling speed, reached out a hand and grabbed his wrist.

"Don't leave me." he said urgently. "Please."

"Young man, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to wait outside." Dr. Ross said firmly.

Blondie – Rusty, she corrected mentally - turned to the doctor and for a second Judy wondered if she'd been mistaken about him being the younger brother. Because his eyes looked so much older than any kid she'd ever known. "He's been feeling ill for five days now. A pain in his stomach that just kept getting worse, and he's been really tired, and he had a slight fever for the last two days. He wouldn't go see the doctor. But then he collapsed and I called an ambulance." The child's voice was entirely steady

Danny seemed to hear something else though. "Not your fault. I'm stubborn."

Rusty said nothing but Judy watched him squeeze Danny's hand tight.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid you need to wait outside." Dr. Ross sounded at something of a loss.

Danny and Rusty both glared at him. Clearly that wasn't going to happen.

"Dr. Ross, perhaps just this once, seeing as there are no other family members present, the boy could stay for the examination?" Judy found herself suggesting.

"He does seem to be keeping the patient calm." Kathleen - one of the other nurses - added, in that tone of hers that seemed to remind all doctors that she'd known them back when they were interns.

Dr. Ross sighed. "All right. Just this once."

While the doctors did their poking and prodding and exchanged glances and 'Hmmm's, Judy watched Danny and Rusty talking to each other, quietly, in unfinished and even unspoken sentences. They leapt from topic to topic without rhyme or reason that Judy could see, covering the exact chemical composition of Cap'n Crunch, something to do with Danny's art teacher and a Lamborghini and whether or not elephants had eyebrows. She exchanged a long look with Kathleen as she scribbled down something on the chart. These kids were something else.

"Now, Danny," Dr Ross said genially when they were done, looking down at the admitting forms. "I see here that your parents are out of the country, is that right?"

Danny didn't answer but Rusty nodded.

"And your Uncle is looking after you?"

"Yes." Danny managed to say. "Uncle Harold." Judy got the impression that the shot that the paramedics had given him for the pain was wearing off.

"I'm afraid that we haven't been able to reach him." Dr. Ross frowned, reading off the notes.

"He's in work. Doesn't like to be disturbed." Danny said and immediately looked as though he regretted it. Judy made a mental note.

"I see." Dr. Ross sounded vaguely disapproving. "Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you a few questions."

"Sure." Danny nodded vaguely.

Dr. Ross smiled. "Now, how old are you?"

"Fourteen." Danny answered. His hand was still clutching Rusty's.

"And would you agree with the account that your brother gave of your symptoms?" the doctor continued.

The boy tensed minutely. It looked almost as if he was trying to cover some instinctive reaction. "Yeah."

Dr. Ross seemed to see it too and frowned. "Nothing else to add?"

"No. Rusty knows what he's talking about." He turned and smiled softly at the younger boy.

"I see." Dr. Ross raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "Have you ever been in hospital before?"

Danny closed his eyes and shook his head, but he didn't seem to have heard.

"Danny, I know it hurts, but you need to help me to help you." Judy could hear the sympathy in the doctor's voice, but it didn't really help.

Rusty stepped forwards and raised his head. "He's never been in hospital before, he's not on any medication, no known allergies, no major illnesses and he's had all his vaccinations. Oh, and no family history of anything in particular. Anything else?"

Well. That was the most comprehensive medical history she'd ever heard from an eleven year old.

"Are you certain of all of that?" Dr. Ross asked with a slight hint of startled incredulity in his voice.

"Yes." Rusty said simply.

"Okay, then." Dr. Ross nodded briskly. "Danny, we think that you have appendicitis. We're going to take you into surgery tomorrow morning, provided we get your uncle's consent. In the meantime, try and get some rest."

Danny nodded weakly and the doctor swept off.

The boys exchanged glances. Rusty spoke first. "Did he seem a little – "

" – yeah."

"Are you – "

" – slightly. Don't – "

" – Not as long as you want me here."

Judy exchanged another incredulous look with Kathleen. Oh, boy. The next few days were going to be interesting.

* * *

The first time she chased Rusty out of the ward and back to the waiting area, Judy was more amused than anything else. The boy had hidden himself well, standing perfectly still against the wall, the curtain and the shadow concealing him. If Danny hadn't happened to half wake up as she was passing and immediately, and seemingly instinctively, turn to smile at something she couldn't see she'd probably never have known.

"He asked me to stay." he said quietly, looking up at her desperately.

"I'm sorry. It's hospital policy." she said, surprised to find that she really was sorry.

He didn't say anything else and she asked the nurse on the desk to keep an eye on him.

The second time she was less amused. It seemed as though the ward staff were no match for a determined eleven year old. The best she could say was that he didn't seem to have any intention of actually waking Danny, in fact he seemed to be content to just stand and watch over him and she suspected that he'd been there for quite a while before she'd noticed. But still, rules were rules and she walked him back to the waiting area.

"He asked me to stay." he repeated but this time he didn't seem to expect it to make any difference.

"Your brother is going to be just fine." she promised, hoping that a healthy dose of reassurance might do the trick.

He just looked at her for a long moment before he walked over to one of the benches and sat with his legs pulled up to his chest.

The third time he was easier to spot. He was sitting with his back to the wall and he was plainly in the process of dozing off.

She walked up to him. "Hey." she said quietly, being careful not to wake Danny.

To her surprise Rusty jumped violently before he seemed to focus on her. He gave a resigned sigh. "I'm going, I'm going."

"No." She held up her hands. "It's visiting hours now. You can stay. You've got two hours."

He smiled at her, suddenly and sweetly and she found herself smiling back. "Thank you." he said, sincerely.

"Here." She dragged a chair over for him. "You might as well get comfortable."

He smiled at her again. "Thank you." he repeated and turned to watch Danny sleep.

"He really is going to be all right." she told him, after a moment.

"You said." His voice was distant.

"The two of you must be very close." she tried.

"Uh huh." He nodded but didn't look round.

"Oh," she suddenly remembered. "We managed to reach your uncle."

That got a reaction; she could see him suddenly tense. "Is he here?"

"Not yet, apparently he's tied up in a meeting and won't be able to get here for at least an hour." She hadn't been that impressed when she'd heard that news, but, well, it was none of her business.

Rusty relaxed and she found herself wondering. "What happened to you?" she asked, trying to make it seem casual.

Then he did turn to look at her, an expression of sheer bafflement on his face. "Huh?"

"Your face." She put a hand up to her own face and indicated the cheek and the lip.

"Oh!" his hand flew up and he rubbed at the bruise ruefully. He grinned. "Danny was trying to show me how to do wheelies." he explained. "It was something less than successful."

Judy relaxed. Because when he'd seemed so worried about his uncle showing up she'd been worried that they might be looking at an abuse case, but she prided herself on her ability to read people and she was sure that no child could lie that well. "You fell off?" she asked, sympathetically.

He shook his head. "Steered straight into a wall and took a header over the handlebars."

She winced in sympathy. "Ouch."

"I'll get the hang of it." he smiled, and then turned back to Danny. "Just need a few more lessons."

Nodding she left him to it and went off to answer Brucie's mother buzzing for the third time in fifteen minutes.

* * *

The uncle finally arrived with twenty minutes left of visiting time and immediately demanded to see whoever was in charge. It took Dr. Ross ten minutes to convince him that Danny was in the best possible hands and that the hospital staff knew what they were doing. Judy was slightly less than impressed with the man.

When she escorted him onto the ward Danny was awake but Rusty had vanished altogether.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. She would have put money on needing to chase Rusty out again once visiting hours were over.

The uncle looked at her irritably. "What?"

"Sorry," She smiled apologetically. "I was just surprised to see your other nephew was gone."

He frowned. "I only have one nephew."

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Danny shaking his head frantically and she found herself contrasting the child – whoever he was – who wouldn't leave his side and the uncle who wouldn't even leave work early to see his hospitalised nephew. She bit her lip. "I must have been mistaken. Sorry."

She made to return to her duties and as she left she heard him address his nephew. "Well, Daniel, quite a pickle you've landed yourself in. I'll talk to the people in charge; see about getting you a private room. I must say, I don't care for this at all. Feels like a public spectacle."

Well, a private room would only make it harder for them to keep Rusty out. She shrugged to herself. Good.

* * *

As Judy started her shift the next day she made a point of talking to Susan who'd been on at night. "So, anything interesting happen?"

"Well, we've got a ghost." Susan said cheerfully.

"What?" Judy blinked.

Susan nodded seriously. "Uh huh. No kidding. Blond kid, about that high . . . "

Ah. Rusty. She sighed. " . . . bruises on his face, right?"

"Yeah." Susan grinned. "You saw him."

"Sure I did." She nodded in frustration. "Must have chased him off the ward three times yesterday."

"Same last night. Well, we kind of stopped after a while. I mean, the other one seemed to sleep much better when he was there, and he wasn't disturbing anyone or doing any harm." "

She raised an eyebrow. "He smiled at you, huh?"

Susan had the grace to look embarrassed. "Yeah. Cute kid."

"A real little charmer." she agreed. "Have you seen the uncle?"

"No. Talked to him on the phone this morning though. Apparently he's been in touch with the parents and they're not cutting their holiday short."

Her eyes widened. "You're kidding."

"Wish I was." Susan sighed and clucked her tongue.

"Poor kid." It wasn't right, but there was nothing they could do about it. As long as there was a relative there, and the boy was being taken care of – which he fairly clearly was – there was no real case to answer.

"Yeah. They took him down to surgery half an hour ago, so we finally managed to persuade his friend to go to the waiting area." She paused thoughtfully. "I only hope he's called his parents at some point. They must be going out of their minds."

"Guess it's only a matter of time before someone calls the social worker." They'd need to find out who he was and send him home. Sad story all round.

* * *

It wasn't until her break that Judy saw Rusty again. She took advantage of her time to step out onto the balcony for a quick cigarette and was shocked to see that not only was Rusty smoking, but there was a tidy pile of cigarette ends in front of him.

"That's very bad for you." she said immediately and disapprovingly.

He looked at the cigarette in her hand and said nothing.

She flushed. "That's different, I'm old enough."

Rusty sighed and again she was struck by how old he seemed. "It's either this or I'm asking the doctor every five minutes if he's heard anything. And all he'll say is that I'm not a relative. And I already know that."

She was both sympathetic and helpless. "I'm sorry. It's – "

" – Hospital policy." He cut her off. "Yeah. I know." He reached into his pocket, pulled out another cigarette and lit it.

"You're far too young to be smoking." She couldn't help it; he was. He really, really was.

"I know that too." He grinned at her and suddenly looked like a kid again. A cute, charming little kid.

"Well, aren't you just a know-it-all." she smiled.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. When it annoys Danny."

"You're not his brother." she stated.

He took a long drag on his cigarette. "I never actually said I was."

"You never denied it." she pointed out.

"No. Well. I wanted to stay for as long as possible." He kept looking over her shoulder, back into the ward and she realised that he was waiting for Danny to be brought back.

"We shouldn't be letting you stay here at all." she said quietly.

He didn't look at her. "Gonna call security? Because I've seen your security guards and I think I can outrun them."

"You can't stay here forever." she pointed out with a wry smile.

"He asked me to stay. He wanted me to stay." His voice was low and insistent and utterly unchildlike.

"Do you always do what he wants?" she asked, amused.

"If I can? Yes." he said, entirely unexpectedly.

She laughed ironically. "And would you jump off a bridge if he wanted you to?"

He grinned. "We did that. Last month."

And there was nothing she could really say to that. Except: "He will be all right."

"Yes." Rusty said quietly but the hand that was holding the cigarette was shaking and for a moment she thought he was going to cry. She almost wished that he would; she knew how to comfort crying children. Hesitantly she reached out to put an arm over his shoulder but he flinched out of the way, dodged her arm, stubbed out his cigarette and was through the door before she even had a chance of registering what was going on.

She stared after him and resolved to track down the hospital social worker as soon as her break was done.

* * *

The fourth time that she chased Rusty out of Danny's room coincided with her next break. Danny had been returned from surgery and Rusty had immediately gone to his room, seemingly entirely unbothered that he was unconscious and would remain that way for the next several hours.

"Come down to the canteen with me." she invited. "You know you're not going to be able to sneak back in for at least another twenty minutes; you might as well get some hot food in you."

He smiled at her. "So you admit you can't keep me out?"

She shook her head in mock sorrow. "Well, we've had no luck so far. You're a good friend."

The smile faded. "Maybe."

"Want to talk about it?" she offered gently "Come on, I'll buy you dinner."

"Nah," He shook his head, bright again. "Danny says that the gentleman always pays."

"Then Danny's been watching too many movies." she said, firmly.

He followed her happily enough and picked out a bowl of pasta and some green jello with rather more enthusiasm than the hospital canteen usually warranted. And to her complete amusement he did insist on paying. She let him, tolerant of male pride at any age.

"So, do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, when they were seated.

He stared down at his jello. "I was scared."

She must have looked puzzled.

"When Danny collapsed." he explained. "I was terrified."

"Of course you were. Anyone would be." she reassured him. Because that was normal.

He didn't seem to hear her. "I should have made him go to the doctor's earlier. If I had, would he be better now?"

She shook her head. "We'd have had to operate anyway. It didn't make a difference. And remember? He said it was his choice not to go."

"He doesn't always do what's best for him." he muttered and she was almost certain that he wasn't talking about this.

She carried on as though she hadn't heard. "And you called the ambulance, remember? And you told Dr. Ross everything you knew. You did everything right. You're a good friend to him."

He shook his head uncertainly and she wasn't totally certain that he was fully aware that he was talking to her. "I was frightened. I'm frightened of so many things."

She paused cautiously. "Like what?"

"So many things." he repeated, and frowned to himself.

She was more than a little relieved to see Michael, the social worker approaching. She could leave it all in better hands now.

"Rusty, this is Michael. He'd like to chat to you for a while. Now, I'll leave you two to get better acquainted." As she stood up she couldn't help but notice the look of betrayal in Rusty's eyes.

* * *

Judy didn't see Rusty for the rest of that day, and Michael assured her that he'd convinced the child to call his parents and get collected. Apparently there was no real trouble at home; the boy was just concerned about his friend. Michael figured that that kind of childhood loyalty was harmless and, well, just plain cute. So she was able to take her day off with a completely clear conscience. Which made it even more painful when she came back to hear that Rusty had been back less than twenty minutes after Michael told her that he'd gone home.

"Just appeared back in that room like magic." Susan told her with a certain amount of awed glee in her voice. "And we haven't been able to shift him for any length of time since."

"This is just ridiculous." she moaned. "Can't you call his parents?"

"Maybe. If we knew his name. But he won't say, and neither will Danny. And Danny still seems to do better when he's there."

"You've not been trying too hard, have you?" she deduced.

"He's a cute kid, and he's not doing any harm." Susan shrugged. "And Danny's uncle only drops by for about ten minutes a day. Kid's bored out of his mind. Why shouldn't we let his friend stay?"

Just because she couldn't exactly give a reason didn't mean that it wasn't a bad idea.

* * *

When she went into Danny's room for the first time, it was visiting hours and she hung in the doorway to watch Rusty reading to Danny – who looked pale and drawn from pain, but still a hundred times better than he had done - from what looked like a Harlequin paperback.

"As the dread pirate captain clasped her to his breast – "

Danny frowned and interrupted. " – Wait _his_ breast?"

Rusty paused and read back. "That's what it says."

"Huh." Danny's frown deepened. "And breast? Not breasts?"

"We haven't got to that bit yet." Rusty rolled his eyes and looked supremely bored. "Give it time."

"It'll be Christmas before you get to the good stuff." Danny grumbled.

"What good stuff?" Rusty muttered.

Danny looked thoughtful. "Think I'll still be here for Christmas?" he asked, as though being in hospital at Christmas would be the best gift ever.

"Maybe." Rusty said hopefully before continuing to read. "As the dread pirate captain clasped her to his breast she felt a strange feeling within her chest. As though a thousand caged butterflies were begging to be set free."

"Butterflies." Danny said flatly.

"Yep." Rusty agreed.

Danny sighed. "Couldn't you have found something else to read?"

"It's this or a magazine on fly fishing." Rusty said with a shrug.

Danny sighed deeper. "Carry on."

Choking back a laugh, Judy stepped into the room. The two looks that were immediately turned on her were far from friendly.

"I just need to check your vitals." she said, glancing over the chart. Everything looked good; Danny was recovering nicely.

"You called social services." Danny said, glaring at her.

Oh, boy. "I had to."

"No you didn't." Rusty frowned. "You're not calling them now just because it's visiting hours. So if I'm allowed to be here now, why does it matter that I'm here the rest of the time?"

"You can't just stay here." she pointed out.

"He's not staying tonight." Danny said. "So there's no more problem, right?"

Rusty turned to glare at Danny. Danny glared back. There was something going on that Judy didn't think she had a hope of following and she really didn't want to get between it.

Finally Rusty sighed, and looked away. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. People stay overnight in hospitals all the time, without someone there to hold your hand."

"I don't hold your hand." Rusty said flatly, and Judy blinked because she'd seen him do exactly that on several occasions.

"Figure of speech." Danny waved a hand dismissively. "But the point is, there's no problem, right?"

She nodded slowly. "No, in that case everything's fine."

"Good." Danny smiled broadly and nodded at the chart. "So how am I doing?"

"You're doing well. How do you feel?" she asked.

"Not too bad." he said. Rusty made a disbelieving noise. "What?" Danny asked with a slight smile.

Rusty shook his head. "They took a piece of you out. There's a piece of your body in a jar somewhere. How can that possibly be not too bad?"

Biting her lip, Judy backed out of the room and left them to it.

* * *

The rest of that day passed in a blur, filled with crying children unwilling to be in hospital two days before Christmas. Still, she made a point of checking in with Danny a couple more times. And she didn't see Rusty once, which was good. But when she got in the next morning, she was immediately told that Rusty had spent the night, same as normal. And there was a 'normal' now. And they'd lied to her.

She stormed into Danny's room and was brought up short by the sight of Dr. Ross sitting talking to him. And Rusty was there too, and apparently the doctor saw no problem with this.

"And so it looks like you'll be going home today, young man. That's good news, isn't it? Just in time for Christmas. You must be looking forward to being back with your parents." He'd forgotten, she could tell. Stupid, patronising fool.

Danny looked at the floor. "They're still on this trip, sir. Last minute attempt to save their marriage."

And she might not know them that well, but she just knew that he'd said that in order to discomfit Dr. Ross. And by the looks of things it had worked nicely. He looked positively mortified. "Oh. Well. I'm sure that they're flying home, since you're ill." She shook her head frantically at him and his eyes widened. "Oh. Well. Christmas, anyway. That will be nice, right?"

"Sure." Danny sounded slightly glum. The doctor left, probably in search of easier patients.

"You lied to me." she said, staring at Rusty, as soon as he was gone.

"Only a little bit." he answered, with an amused smile.

"This isn't a laughing matter." she said with a frown.

"We're going to be out of your hair today, and you'll never see us again." Danny pointed out.

She paused for a long moment. "Well, on the basis that you'll never see me again, and to satisfy my curiosity, why don't you want to go home for Christmas like everyone else round here?"

They exchanged a long glance. "Because I'll be at home being miserable with my uncle and Rusty gets to spend the day with his dad." Danny said bluntly.

Right. She shook her head. "Christmas should be for family." she told them gently. Childhood friendships. They'd learn soon enough.

"Right." Rusty smiled crookedly.

Danny sighed and turned to him. "My uncle will be coming to pick me up soon. You'd better disappear."

"Okay." Rusty nodded and then hesitated. She got the impression that they wanted her to leave, but this time she was determined that she would wait to be sure that he wasn't hanging around. "I won't see you, so . . . Happy Christmas, Danny."

"Happy Christmas, Rus'." Danny smiled, a little sadly. "And thanks. For staying. Must have been difficult."

Rusty grinned. "It was easy."

And she looked at the yellowing bruises on his face and she was almost amused that he could lie so well.

* * *

**So, did anyone else find the ending of that quite startlingly depressing? Or was it just me?**


	13. In the beginning Part 1

**The observant amongst you will notice that this is once again the first part of a multipart chapter. To be exact it's part one of a story arc that will last four chapters. (Probably) Four chapters of chronological order! Won't that make sense for once.**

**I obviously don't own 'Adventures of Huckleberry Finn' of which an abridged version is quoted in this chapter. Do own the rabbit book though, cos I made it up.**

**Also this was improved incredibly by being read and con critted by the fantastically brilliant InSilva, without whom I'd probably have stopped long ago. Thank you. **

****

**1. 'In the beginning' (Chapter 13) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**3. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**4. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**5. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**6. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**7. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**8. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**9. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**10. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**11. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**12. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

Danny walked out of the principal's office. Well, that had wasted five minutes of morning recess. Wasn't his fault that Mrs O'Donnell hadn't seen the funny side. She reminded him of his first second grade teacher and he'd worked a little pre-emptive revenge. So he'd super-glued her mug to her desk. It wasn't like she was supposed to be drinking coffee during class anyway. Actually, he'd bet it wasn't coffee in there at all. And whatever Principal Mallie said he wasn't in the habit of calling his teachers moronic harlots. He wasn't even sure what it meant, it was just something he'd heard on a late night movie.

He stepped out onto the playground and Freddy, Doug and Buzz crowded round him. He'd been hanging out with them for the last three days. They seemed nice enough, just like three kids he'd known back in his old school, but there was no point in him getting too close. His parents would undoubtedly move him to a new school as soon as they got tired of the string of failing grades, calls to the principal's office and whatever else he decided to get into. The school was always to blame. It had happened five times in the last three years and Danny was past the point of even trying to make real friends. But these guys would do nicely to kill time with.

"What did Mallie say?" Doug demanded. It sounded like he was scared of Mallie and Danny couldn't imagine why. He was pretty sure that she was all bark and no bite, just like the principal at his last school but one.

"She said she was going to call my parents." The other boys' eyes widened. He shrugged. He didn't care that much; he doubted they'd be anymore interested than they were last week. They'd yell at him for a bit, if they happened to think of it, and then he'd be grounded until they forgot. Two days, on average.

"You're pretty cool, Danny," Freddy said admiringly. "Wanna join my gang?"

He'd been given that offer a few times before. At no time had the gang ever been more than a small group of boys who wanted to be rebels and who wrote swearwords on the walls. "Sure. Why not?"

They grinned and exchanged glances. "You want in you need to get through our initiation."

He'd heard that before too. But why not? It wasn't like he had anything better planned. "Sure. What is it?"

They looked around them and then leaned in close to him. "You need to go and bring us back someone's lunch."

"You mean steal it?" Danny asked. Sounded pretty stupid to him.

"Yeah!" Buzz nodded enthusiastically. "We've all done it."

"Right." He sighed and walked away from them. If this was what he had to do in order to hang out with them then he might as well get it over with. This was no worse than anything else he'd done. So he'd take some whinging brat's sandwich. He definitely wasn't going to hurt anyone; he'd just scare them into giving it up.

He looked round the playground thoughtfully. Had to be a younger kid, obviously. He doubted he'd look intimidating to anyone his own age. Had to be a boy – he wasn't about to try and strong-arm a girl – someone on his own, shy, small and easily frightened. He caught sight of the little blond kid standing on the edge of the playground leaning against the wall. He'd do. Looked like he'd fit the bill perfectly.

Well, he might as well get on with it. He marched up to the kid who, surprisingly, turned his head and watched Danny walk up to him. Well, not really walk. March. Swagger. Like Clint Eastwood. And he towered over the kid, stared down at him for a long moment. The kid didn't look away. Didn't blink. He just looked at Danny, thoughtful and amused, in a way that was completely outside Danny's experience.

"Give me your lunch," Danny said, and in his own ears his voice sounded quietly menacing.

But the kid _grinned_. He actually grinned, like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "Don't have any," he said, simply.

Danny blinked and the grin and the look in the kid's eyes seemed to encompass the world. There was something . . . He'd never met any kid like this before. No adult either, come to that. And even though he'd never regret it – not for a second, not for the rest of his life – he'd also never be able to explain why the next thing he said was, "Oh. Want some of mine?"

The kid frowned at him and Danny could see the surprise on his face. There was a small part of him that enjoyed seeing the slight dent in the boy's cool exterior. "Why?"

Good question. Danny concentrated on looking charming. Because this was important to him even if he didn't understand why. He smiled, that smile that almost always got him out of trouble and into whatever he wanted. "I've forgotten my lunch before. Everyone has. You can pay me back sometime, if you want." He paused and the kid regarded him steadily. "I'd do this for anyone; no big deal."

The kid smiled slightly. "Liar."

Danny nodded. "Fair enough." He looked the kid straight in the eye. "I don't know why. Be here at lunchtime and we'll share."

The kid looked at him for a long moment and then grinned again, seeming to like whatever he saw. "Okay then."

The bell rang and they both headed off to class. Danny noticed that the kid was limping painfully and wondered why.

* * *

Robert walked slowly round to where the boy had said to meet him and tried not to wince with every time he put weight on his bad ankle. He'd blown off Brady and Cameron to come round here. Not that he exactly regretted that. He couldn't play tag with them today and he hated having to watch them eat. Wasn't the first time that he'd had to duck out of the house without his lunch. That had happened before, and if he added the number of times that he'd slept in too late to make up a lunch in the first place, well, it was a few times a month, he'd guess. And Brady especially didn't seem to understand. Brady placed almost as much importance on food as he himself did, and he'd told Miss Harris that Robert didn't have any lunch one time, and she'd never looked at him the same after that. The same look that he saw on his neighbour's faces sometimes and he'd never understood it. What's more she must have called his parents and told them she knew how bad he was and it had been three days before he'd been able to go back to school.

He was hungry and he tried to tell himself that the boy wasn't going to be there, and even if he was it'd probably just be so he could beat him up and take what he did have. Trouble was, he didn't believe himself. Because that's what he'd been expecting as soon as he'd said he didn't have anything for the boy, and it hadn't happened. There was something about the boy that was different from everything Robert had ever known. Though he was still a little puzzled why the boy would be trying to steal food if he had some of his own, but, well, he supposed he could understand about wanting to store stuff for later.

The boy was standing there, holding a shiny metal lunchbox. He looked up and smiled at Robert, and he found himself smiling back immediately.

"So what do you want?" the boy asked, sitting down on the step and opening the box happily. Robert, gingerly sitting on the step below, caught sight of the sandwich and the chips and the crackers and the candy bar and he felt his mouth watering.

"Whatever you don't, I guess." He didn't especially mind. He just wanted something.

The boy nodded. "We'll split it all then," he said, and passed Robert half the sandwich. He also politely pretended that he didn't notice Robert staring.

Once he'd satisfied himself that the boy was for real he tore hungrily into the sandwich, watching the boy all the time, because sometimes good things happened just so they could be stolen away, and the boy would be perfectly within his rights to take the sandwich back. Still. Fresh bread. Real butter. Thick pieces of chicken – actual chicken, not just fat or gristle. And layers of mayonnaise and vegetables that were crunchy and green instead of soggy and brown. He finished his half before the boy had even managed two bites and closed his eyes; this was as good as it got. Until the boy, with an unidentifiable look of pain in his eyes, passed over half the bag of chips and half the crackers.

It wasn't that he ever went hungry. Not exactly. Well, apart from those few days in the summer, after his mom had . . . but he didn't much like thinking about that. But his mom made sure that there was almost always food in the cupboards, and the few times that there weren't, well, he had ways of getting money now. He ate okay. He _did_ okay.

Once the chips and the crackers were gone, the boy picked up the apple and regarded it for a second before he did some strange twisty thing with his hands that had Robert 'Oooh' in amazement, and split the apple right in two.

"I don't think I like apples," he said apologetically as the half fruit was thrust silently at him.

The boy frowned first at them and then at the fruit in his hand. "Neither do I," he said thoughtfully, and he put both halves together and threw them at the garbage can with a mischievous smile. Robert grinned back.

They split the carton of juice between them. (Orange and mango, and he'd never tasted anything like it before. He actually had to check the label to see what it was.) And the silence between them was like nothing Robert had ever known before. It felt like it did sometimes late at night, when he knew his parents were asleep and wouldn't be getting up again and he could sit on the window ledge, look up at the sky, his legs dangling out of the window, and breathe freely. He didn't know if there were words for this but he thought that 'happy' might come kind of close.

When the juice was finished the boy pushed the candy bar towards him. "Take it. All of it."

He shook his head. "Nah." Splitting was one thing. This was different.

"I don't want it," the boy insisted and again he could hear the lie. Besides, it was a Snickers bar. Nuts and chocolate and caramel and nougat. Who wouldn't want it?

"We can split it if you want," he offered. "But – "

" – It's yours," the boy interrupted stubbornly.

Robert sighed and picked up the chocolate. Then he broke it in two and passed half back to the boy. "If it's mine then I want to share it."

The boy looked startled and then smiled slowly at him. "Okay then."

It was the best chocolate Robert ever tasted.

* * *

The fact that he hadn't handed any homework in for a few days was maybe his fault. He just hadn't felt like it. Wasn't as though he didn't understand it. They repeated all the same things over and over again and Danny just found it so boring. So he didn't do it. No big deal. Except Mallie hadn't seen it that way and he'd had to sit through a lecture on not squandering his talents – and he wasn't exactly sure what that meant – and personal responsibility – and he wasn't exactly sure that meant anything at all. But somehow they'd got from him not doing his homework to him spending an hour a week helping less able kids with reading. He'd agreed. It was an hour out of class after all, and his parents had seemed enthusiastic in a distracted sort of way. Maybe if he did this they'd be proud of him.

He looked round the room with a frown. He was probably the only one of the student volunteers who wasn't a complete geek. He was also the only one sitting on his own. The rest of them were sitting with their assigned partners, trying to explain the mysteries of 'Jack and Jill' to the disinterested kids. Danny had the feeling that this was going to be a very long hour.

Mrs. Richards walked up to him, beaming. "Daniel. I'm so happy to see you volunteering your time like this."

He smiled at her. No point in being difficult. Not right now. "That's quite all right."

She stepped aside and for the first time he noticed that someone was standing behind her. The little blond kid he'd shared his lunch with the other day.

"Daniel Ocean, this is Robert Ryan." Danny winced at the use of his full name and was surprised to notice that the kid – Robert – frowned at his own name. Interesting. Mrs. Richards went on, seemingly not even noticing the way they were staring at each other. "I'll leave you to get acquainted, shall I? Oh, and Daniel? This is Robert's reading book." Danny was handed a battered copy of 'The Adventures of Terry the Rabbit'. Ouch.

"Thanks." He waited until Robert had sat down and Mrs. Richards had walked away. "So."

"Yeah," Robert agreed.

"It's Danny, by the way. Not Daniel." He waited expectantly but Robert just nodded and didn't offer any nickname of his own.

There was a brief silence. Robert was staring at him. "How come you're here?"

Danny grinned slightly. "Apparently spending time with people 'less intellectually able' will keep me on the straight and narrow."

"Oh." Robert looked down.

"And that's not you," Danny continued, frowning slightly. "That's really not you. So what are you doing here?" He'd seen Robert reading the ingredients on the juice. This didn't make sense.

"They don't know if I can read," Robert said simply.

Danny blinked. "They don't know . . . ?" he echoed.

Robert shrugged and looked away.

Danny stared at him. "Can you or can't you?"

Robert's lips twitched slightly but he still wouldn't look at Danny.

"I saw you reading the juice box from lunch," Danny told him, doubting himself even as he spoke. He supposed it was possible that he'd been mistaken. That Robert had just been looking at the pictures or something.

Danny was looking carefully and even then he nearly missed the slight movement of shoulders, the tiny jump of surprise. Not mistaken then. He pursed his lips and pushed the book across the table.

Robert made no attempt to open it. He simply leaned back in his chair and recited. "Terry was a very little rabbit. He wanted a carrot. Farmer Tim had carrots. Terry went to Farmer Tim. He said 'I want a carrot'. Farmer Tim said 'No.' Terry went home. Terry – "

" – That's enough," Danny interrupted, amused. He pulled the book towards him and flicked through the pages. Word perfect. "And that's what you do when they ask you to read?"

Robert nodded and watched him.

Danny bit his lip and didn't ask. Instead he reached into his bag and pulled out his own reading book. "Try this."

Unsurprisingly Robert made no attempt to take it.

"Reading is important," Danny said gently.

They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Danny wouldn't let Robert look away. Because there were lots of things that were important and Danny didn't understand a fraction of them.

Robert suddenly smiled at him. "Okay." He opened the book. "You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer' Now the way that book winds up is this: Tom and me found the money that the robbers hid in the cave and it made us rich. We got six thousand dollars ape . . . appy . . apeak . . . "

"Apiece," Danny offered. "It means 'each'." He looked at Robert thoughtfully. "You can read."

"Uh huh." Robert stared down at the book.

"Better than a lot of the kids in my class," Danny went on. He noticed the quick flash of smile but said nothing. "Now," he leaned forwards. "Why?" he asked, very quietly.

Robert rubbed at the side of his mouth awkwardly. "I like reading," he said softly.

"So?" Danny didn't especially care for books himself, but he didn't see anything wrong with reading.

"Only sissies like to read. And sissies deserve what they get." Robert wouldn't look at him and Danny didn't understand what he meant.

"If you carry on like this they'll keep sending letters home," he warned. "They'll want to talk to your parents all the time. They'll hold you back a grade."

Robert looked at him. "You think so?" he asked seriously.

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah."

"Dad didn't like it when Mrs. Richards called round to say I needed help." As Danny watched Robert's eyes got cloudy and for the first time in a while Danny remembered that the other boy was younger than him. "He got angry." He shook himself. "How do you know how smart to be?" he asked, and Danny could hear the bewilderment in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Danny asked carefully.

"Being dumb is bad. Being too clever is very bad. How do you know what's right?"

Danny looked at him, so young and confused, and had to resist the inexplicable urge to reach out and clasp his hand. And he wanted to say that Robert should be what he really was but his eyes were far away again and Danny knew it would somehow be wrong. "I don't know," he said instead. "I'm sorry."

Robert smiled. "Don't be sorry."

"We don't need to tell them you can read," Danny proposed. "Not right away. You get an hour out of class and I get an hour out of class. It's all good." And spending time with Robert was somehow comfortable.

Robert nodded. "You tried to steal my lunch," he remarked, out of nowhere.

Well, that was awkward. "I'm sorry . . ." he began.

"Don't be sorry." Robert shook his head. "It's just that . . . can you keep a secret?" Before he even had a chance to say anything Robert was smiling. "You can keep a secret. It's just that it's better to steal from adults. If you need to."

Danny blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you steal someone's cupcake you have a cupcake. And the person you took it from can come along and say 'That's my cupcake.' Unless you've eaten it. But they can recognise it. But adults have money and if you steal that they can't recognise it again and you can buy lots of cupcakes."

"You steal money from adults?" Danny hissed.

Robert nodded slowly.

He couldn't help it. Because this wasn't anything normal, this was out of everything he'd ever known and he had to know more. "Show me," he said, very, very quietly. "Please."

* * *

He smiled and explained again, in a whisper. "Don't look them in the face. Don't tiptoe or crouch or anything. Just kind of walk past and move quick, like you're going somewhere." He'd already demonstrated the technique, on a woman whose purse had been hanging open. It had been easy pickings but Danny had still looked at him like he was something special. Now they were looking at another possibility; a man with his coat hanging over his arm, the bulge in the pocket showing where his wallet was and Danny wanted a shot.

"Okay." Danny nodded seriously and licked his lips.

"You'll be fine," he said. Because he was sure of it. Danny grinned at him and walked off, doing exactly like he'd said. And Robert was watching and no-one else noticed when Danny's hand slipped inside the man's coat but he did see a few heads turn when Danny ran instead of walked back to their hiding spot. Not that it mattered; no-one moved to stop him, and Robert had used to make that mistake all the time.

"Got it," Danny panted, his eyes wide.

"What did you get?" he asked and Danny opened up the wallet filled with green notes. "Nice."

Danny looked excited and at the same time slightly disturbed. "That's more than was in yours."

He shrugged. "Different people carry different money."

"We should split it even," Danny said firmly.

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why, but he stopped himself because Danny was right. He wasn't exactly sure why, but Danny was right. "Okay. Throw the wallet away over there."

Danny fingered the red leather. "It's nice though."

"Yeah but wallets are the same as cupcakes. Just keep the cash," Robert advised and Danny nodded slowly and stuck the wallet on the same ledge on which he'd left the one from earlier.

It took them a while to count out the money. First couple of times they got different totals and had to start again. They got the hang of it eventually and Robert had rarely felt so rich.

"That was fun!" Danny exclaimed and he had to stop and consider, because yes it was. Before it had just been something he did, for when he was hungry but Danny had turned it into something more. "Can we do it again?"

He frowned. "It's getting dark," he pointed out. It would be more difficult when they couldn't see.

But Danny was already grinning and shaking his head. "I didn't mean now. I meant can we do this another day as well?"

"Sure." He didn't even hesitate.

"Like Saturday?" Danny suggested eagerly.

"Saturday," he agreed.

Danny carried on chattering and Robert remembered that he hadn't been nearly so excited the first time he'd stolen a wallet. Mind you at that time it had seemed a straightforward choice between stealing and starving to death. "What are we going to do now? Do you need to get home? My parents would never let me stay out this late when I was your age."

"They don't really care," he said and was surprised to hear his voice sound so sad.

"I know the feeling," Danny said after a moment and he could hear the truth in that.

He traced a pattern in the dirt with his toe and surprised himself again by admitting "I don't want to go home."

Danny watched him. " . . . I know that feeling too. Do they yell?"

"Sometimes." The yelling was scary. And when his dad was listing all the ways he was bad, screaming at the top of his voice and his mom was just watching, sometimes Robert just wished that he'd get on with the punishment so that it would all be over.

"Mine yell," Danny said quietly and Robert nodded unsurprised, because there was something in Danny that was the same as him, and maybe that meant that Danny was bad too. "Promise not to laugh?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Robert said seriously.

Danny looked down at the scuffed earth. "Sometimes, late at night, when they're yelling I take my blankets and my pillows and I go and sleep in my bathroom. In the tub."

That sounded like a good hiding place. Sometimes Robert hid under the bed, but they always found him. "Does it help?"

"I don't hear so much," Danny shrugged and then abruptly looked up at him and grinned. "Do you want to go to the arcade?"

"Okay," he agreed immediately. Because he'd always had lots of friends but this was different somehow, and he didn't want it to end too soon. Actually, he didn't want it to end at all, but Danny would get bored of him hanging around soon enough.

* * *

They spent nearly three hours in the arcade. He'd done his best to show Robert how to beat the high score on 'Asteroids', but Robert had found it funny when the little ship blew up and tried to come up with as many creative ways of losing as possible. Danny hadn't objected too much. It was fun, they had the money and he liked hearing Robert laugh.

They only left because the arcade was closing. Danny was in no particular hurry to get back home. Okay, so his parents would be worried by now, but one or other of them was always staying out till all hours of the night, and he wasn't supposed to worry then. And maybe they hadn't even noticed he was gone. They'd been fighting more than usual lately. And Robert didn't seem to want to go home either, which Danny could completely understand. He could vaguely remember how scary his parents' constant arguing had been when he was that age. He hadn't been able to understand that it wasn't always his fault.

"I'm hungry," Robert commented, as they stepped out of the arcade.

"Me too," Danny agreed. It had been a long time since lunch, and normally he'd have a snack or something when he came in from school.

"Do you want to pick up some chips or something?" Robert suggested.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. Let's go get some proper food." They'd passed a diner a little way down the street. Seemed like a good idea to him.

Robert nodded and followed him contentedly.

The diner – which went by the imaginative name of 'Mabel's Diner' – was empty when they went in except for the woman serving behind the counter who regarded them in surprise.

They smiled nervously at her and took a seat at one of the booths. She was over immediately.

"Are you meeting your parents here?" she asked.

Danny shook his head. "No, ma'am. It's just us," he told her politely.

She frowned.

"We have money," Robert offered, and produced a handful.

"Oh, honey, that's far from being the problem here." She smiled gently.

"We're just looking to get something to eat, ma'am," Danny said with his most charming smile.

She sighed and looked from one to the other. Her gaze lingered on Robert and Danny wondered just what she was seeing. "What'll it be?"

"Can we have pie? And chocolate cake? And ice-cream? And banana milkshake?" Robert asked eagerly.

Danny smiled; so much for proper food.

The woman looked thoughtful. "Did I tell you about our special deals? If you order a main course you get as much dessert as you can eat free."

Robert's eyes widened. "Really?" he breathed.

"Sure you do," she nodded firmly. "Long as you eat it all up, even the vegetables."

Robert pulled a face. Danny bit his lip. "I'll have a burger then," he decided.

"Two please," Robert nodded happily.

She smiled at both of them. "Coming right up."

The burgers, when they arrived, were delicious and juicy, and came with a mountain of salad. Robert tore into his right away and Danny was reminded of how he'd eaten the lunch they'd shared. As though he was expecting Danny to take it away at any moment. Made him wonder how often bigger kids had stolen Robert's lunch, and that thought didn't exactly help the guilt that he still felt whenever he thought about how this thing had started. Robert didn't really seem like the type to be bullied, but then he remembered the limp and vowed to keep an eye open and watch for any signs. Then he could figure out the appropriate steps to take. Somehow he thought he might enjoy doing that.

"Can I ask you something?" he began, casually, once the lady had cleared away the empty plates with a smile, and Robert was demolishing a large slab of chocolate cake.

"Uh huh." He didn't look up.

"How come you don't like your name?" Because he just preferred being Danny, but there'd seemed to be something more to Robert's reaction.

Robert still didn't look up but he tensed slightly. "It's not my name."

Danny frowned "What do – "

" – My dad's name." He did look up then, and there was something in his eyes that scared Danny a little. "I hear it and I think of him. Not me."

He smiled as reassuringly as he could. "You don't look like a Robert anyway."

"Promise?" he stared straight at him desperately.

"Definitely," Danny nodded. "We should find you a new name. One that ends in 'Y'."

"Why?"

"Yes," Danny agreed.

He frowned. "No, I mean – "

"- Oh!" Danny got it. "Oh, sorry. Because all cool names end in 'Y'"

The frown deepened. "You think I'm – "

" – Definitely." Danny grinned. That much was obvious.

* * *

They yelled at him; he wasn't surprised. Words like 'disappointment' and 'irresponsible' and 'stupid' flew freely. And of course, the old favourite, 'and what would the neighbours think?' And then his mom had said he was 'just like his father' and Dad had turned on her and they'd been screaming at each other, Danny's sins long forgotten and he managed to sneak up the stairs without being noticed.

He spent some time reading comics by flashlight, ignoring the raging storm below him with an effort. And when he turned it off and lay in the dark, trying uselessly to sleep, he found himself wondering how Robert was. Hopefully _his_ parents hadn't been so angry. And he wondered if Robert would like to play together at lunch tomorrow. Because Danny hadn't been looking to make any close friends. But somehow he had and he didn't regret it in the slightest.

He heard the crash of glass against the wall and he pulled his blankets and pillows off the bed and padded through to the bathroom. Lying curled in the bathtub there was blessed silence and he managed to drift off to sleep.

* * *

When he got home his dad was nowhere to be seen. His mom was slumped on the sofa, the radio blaring out static beside her, her vacant stare tracking a cockroach's progress up the wall.

"Hi, Mom." he began cheerfully. "I was out at the arcade with Danny. I told you about Danny, remember? He shared his lunch with me the other day when . . . when I left mine at home. We had fun."

It was a game that he often played. He would talk, the way he'd heard Brady and Cameron and Johnny and others talking to their moms and he'd pretend that maybe this time she'd respond the same way. Of course, he always made sure that he was standing well out of her reach. And he never, ever even thought of playing it with his dad.

She threw a bottle at him and he didn't flinch; she was a terrible shot. "You talk too much," she slurred. "Giving me a headache."

He nodded. Not a night for games then. He glanced over at the pile of glass and the pool of liquid. Nearly a full bottle. He'd be made to explain that to his dad when he came in. Because it was bad to waste things, just as it was bad to be noisy and upset Mom.

He hoped that Danny's night was going better. And he hoped that Danny had really meant what he'd said about them playing together again. Because it had been a very good day.

* * *

**Next part in the next few days, hopefully. Oh, by the way, 'Terry the Rabbit'? So not my fault. Asked my fiancee what a good name for a rabbit was, completely without context, and she came up with Terry. He's a rabbit with hotels. Probably wearing a waistcoat.**


	14. In the beginning Part 2

**Second part and once again all my thanks is owed to InSilva for more help and encouragement than she realises.**

**Timeline again**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**3. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**4. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**5. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**6. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**7. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**8. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**9. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**10. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**11. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**12. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

Danny hadn't managed to catch up with Robert until after school was done. At recess he'd been kept in by Mrs. O'Donnell who apparently hadn't especially appreciated his creative writing assignment. Possibly he should have made more of an effort to change the names. And then at lunchtime he'd had to dance round Freddy, Buzz and Doug who were still a little confused, but Danny just wasn't content to be killing time with them now. And he really wasn't so happy, anymore, to be stealing little kids' lunches. But he'd felt strangely disappointed not to have been able to find Robert afterwards so he headed to the main gate and the crush of waiting, eager parents. His were never there. Never had been. Even back in kindergarten and first grade it had been Elsa, his babysitter who waited for him. Somehow he doubted that Robert's parents would be there either - Robert's 'they don't really care' from last night was a little too familiar - but he was hoping to maybe linger and hopefully catch Robert as he came out of school. All quite by chance of course. He'd sit on the wall and act like he was tying his shoelace, or something. Except when he got there, Robert was already sitting on the wall. And as Danny approached he saw him tying his shoelace with an expression of intense concentration. Danny paused, hiding behind a group of fifth graders and their parents and had to stifle a laugh as he saw Robert contemplate his foot for a moment before he carefully untied the lace again. He was just starting to retie it when Danny walked up to him.

"Practising?" Danny asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Something like that," Robert agreed and when he looked up at Danny and smiled, Danny's heart caught in his throat. Robert's eye was swollen almost shut, the skin around it purple in a way that Danny had only ever seen on TV.

"What happened? Did one of the older kids hit you? Was it Norris Carrol?" He'd heard Norris boasting about making kids cry before. If he'd hurt Robert . . . Danny didn't even know what he'd do. But he'd never felt this angry before.

Robert looked puzzled before he put his hand up to his face. "Oh! No, of course he didn't. It's nothing."

"What happened?" Danny demanded again.

Robert shrugged and grinned up at Danny. "I was bad."

Danny stared at him blankly and tried to understand. But he couldn't. He couldn't imagine what 'bad' thing Robert could possibly have been doing to get a black eye like that. "But what happened?" he repeated.

"Oh!" Robert suddenly seemed to understand something different. As though he thought that Danny's question had meant something else this time round. "I fell." He looked at Danny as though seeking approval.

Danny could hear the lie and really didn't understand any better and he was about to ask further when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Daniel. How lovely to see you again. And how are you?"

Annette Darcey's mother. One of the last people that Danny ever wanted to see. "I'm very well, thank you, Mrs Darcey," he replied politely, and turned round and smiled at her.

She did something with her lips that could have been called a smile by someone who had never seen one before and she pinched his cheek before she turned her attention to Robert. "And who is your little friend?" She reached out, obviously intending to pinch _his_ cheek, or ruffle his hair, or do one of the hundred little things that she seemed to save up to humiliate people. And it was difficult to say whether she or Danny was more surprised when Robert flinched away from her outstretched hand and leapt off the wall and out of her reach. And in that moment Danny saw two things. Firstly he saw that Mrs Darcey was preparing to deliver one of her long lectures on manners. And secondly, and far more importantly, he saw that Robert was genuinely scared.

"Excuse me, Mrs Darcey," he interrupted, "But I didn't think that Annette went to this school. I thought she was still taking advantage of the music programme at St. Catherine's."

That did the trick; his mom always said that Juliet Darcey would never turn down the chance to talk about her precious daughter's talents. "Yes, she is. She's even got a solo in the school concert this year. It's such a good school, such a shame you had to leave, though I suppose your parents were wise to pull you out before you were expelled. And how are you finding this place?"

"It's fine," Danny said with a smile. "I think I like it here."

"Yes. My goddaughter Celeste is a student here." She nodded over to where Annette was talking eagerly to another girl. "It's a good school. And of course they do wonders with delinquents."

She didn't seem to realise that she'd just insulted her own goddaughter. But somehow, just from the way he was standing, and carefully not reacting, Danny knew that Robert had, and was killing himself laughing inside. Choking back his own laughter, Danny smiled politely at her again. "Yes. Well, we need to be on our way, Mrs. Darcey. It was nice seeing you again."

She nodded to him. "Remember me to your mother," she commanded, and walked back to Annette and Celeste. "Girls! We'll be late for ballet practice."

"Who was that?" Robert asked him quietly, his eyes wide.

"Juliet Darcey. And yes, she's as scary as she looks. She's a friend of my mom's." He considered some of the dinner parties he'd been witness to. "Well, not really a friend. More of a packmate. Like hyenas." He thought of the snarling and snapping he'd seen on that nature program the other week. And the laughter. Definitely hyenas.

"Want to head into town?" Robert suggested hesitantly.

He really, really shouldn't. He'd been in enough trouble last night. "Can't." He shook his head regretfully. "How about you come over to my place instead?"

"Really? Your parents won't be . . . they won't mind?"

"They probably won't be in." Danny said. They always said they would be, but most of the time something happened and they had to work late instead. Which suited him fine.

They started walking towards the bus stop. "It wouldn't have hurt you know." Danny said abruptly.

Robert looked at him.

He felt compelled to explain. "I mean when she – "

" – I know." Robert interrupted. "I don't like to be touched." he added quietly, and there was that same fear behind his words.

Danny frowned. "It's just this cheek pinching thing she does. It doesn't hurt, it's just embarrassing."

"Oh." He could feel Robert's confusion and disbelief and he just didn't know what to say.

* * *

Danny's house was huge. Two storeys and it was just Danny and his parents who lived there. Robert couldn't imagine what they did with the space. And they had a front and a back yard, and two garages and a shiny new-looking car parked in the driveway.

He noticed Danny staring at the car unhappily. "My mom's home."

"We could go somewhere else until she's gone, or asleep or whatever?" he suggested hesitantly.

Danny sighed. "We can't dodge her forever." He paused. "But I guess we can for now. Come on. I'll show you this great place I found the other week. Race you!"

"But I don't know where we're going," Robert pointed out as he ran after Danny.

"Then I'll win!" Danny yelled back.

Somehow that seemed less than fair.

They headed away from the house and up the hill. Pretty soon Robert realised that they were heading towards what looked like an abandoned and falling down house. There was grass growing on the boarded up windows and what looked like a small tree growing out of what was left of the chimney. "Stop!" he yelled to Danny, who was still quite some way in front of him.

Danny did, just like Robert had known he would, and with a frown he waited for Robert to walk up to him. Then Robert suddenly sprinted past him and, giggling, and hearing Danny race to try and catch up, crossed the threshold. "I win!" he cheered.

Shaking his head angrily – and he knew, somehow, that he wasn't really mad – Danny pointed at him. "You are a cheat. And a thief. And a liar."

"Uh huh," he agreed happily. "I'm bad."

To his surprise, Danny immediately shook his head and looked serious. "No, you're just a cheat and a thief and a liar. You're not bad."

He frowned at Danny and really didn't understand.

Danny smiled. "Never mind. Wanna play at cowboys?"

"Yeah!" he grinned, confusion forgotten.

"Okay." Danny thought for a second. "I'll be Tex Harker, Sheriff of these here parts, you can be Rusty Rawlins, daring outlaw."

Sounded good to Robert. "Cool. I'm wearing a mask," he decided. "Like the Lone Ranger."

"Well, I've got a badge. Like," Danny frowned. "Well, also like the Lone Ranger, I guess."

"Right! And I'm going to come riding into town on my horse Snoopy." He started trotting along beside the wall of the house, looking round carefully for bandits.

Danny paused. "You can't call a horse Snoopy!"

"Why not?" he demanded. If he had a real horse he'd call it Snoopy.

And Danny didn't seem to have an argument to that. " . . . okay. Fair enough." Danny settled himself outside the door of the house, tipped an imaginary Stetson and started to whistle 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.' Robert grinned and slowed his horse down to fit.

He spoke in a drawl, like he'd heard cowboys on screen do. "I'm fixin' to rob this here bank."

Danny stood up and hitched up where he thought a gun belt would sit. "Well, I'm a-goin' to stop you. Nobody messes with Tex Harker's town."

"Rusty Ryan does." He realised immediately that he should have used the surname Danny had thought up, but Danny didn't seem to notice. Or mind.

They drew their guns and shot at each other for several enjoyable minutes, chasing each other round the building, tripping over the 'Danger! Condemned' signs several times.

"Give up, Rusty!" Danny yelled finally. "You're out of bullets."

"So are you!" Robert called back.

"Well, I still got my knife." Danny brandished his empty hand triumphantly.

The memory of that summer day and the look in his mom's eyes and the tip of the blade rose up in his mind and he pushed them down as best he could. " . . . I don't like knives."

Danny paused and immediately opened his hand, getting rid of the imaginary knife. "It's just a game, Rus . . . Robert."

He shook his head. "I don't like knives. Sorry, Danny."

"Well, guess you still got a few bullets there, pardner." Danny smiled.

Except somehow even that didn't sound fun anymore. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he said quietly.

"Then how're you going to rob the bank?" Danny didn't sound impatient or scornful. He sounded curious, like he was sure that there was an answer.

Robert thought for a moment. "I'm going to sneak in very, very quietly, and because I'm so little and careful that no-one ever sees me, and I crawl behind the desk and I reach for the money . . . " Without even thinking about it he matched his actions to his words.

" . . . the guy behind the desk sees you! And he reaches for the gun, and he's going to shoot you!" Danny's voice was alarmed and Robert immediately started to crawl backwards. "Rusty! No!" Danny cried in alarm and he lunged forwards, kicked violently at the air and nearly fell over. "I kick the gun out of his hand! Grab the cash!"

Robert darted forwards again and grabbed the money from the desk. "Got it!"

They sprinted away from the building, dodging hails of bullets all the time, jumped on their horses and galloped away. When they silently agreed they were safe, they fell to the ground, exhausted.

"Had enough of Sheriffing?" Robert asked.

"Couldn't let him shoot you." Danny propped himself up on one elbow. "Who would I talk to?"

Robert grinned and said nothing.

* * *

It had taken a lot of effort to persuade Robert to stay for dinner. It honestly wasn't a big deal, he had friends over all the time and his parents never minded. Or possibly never noticed. He wasn't quite sure. Admittedly most of the time they were neighbourhood kids, ones that his parents knew and could be sent home in five minutes if asked. But still. Danny couldn't believe that there'd really be a problem.

He couldn't believe that there'd really be a problem until he saw his mom staring at Robert with a barely concealed look of disgust.

Incredulous, he turned to look at Robert himself, trying to understand what she was seeing. For the first time he noticed that Robert's hair was quite a bit longer than most kids, obviously in dire need of cutting, and that his jumper was thin, almost worn through in places, and frayed to the point of unravelling at the collar and the hem. And his jeans were badly patched, and his trainers had a couple of holes in them and none of that was Robert's fault, but somehow he realised that his mom didn't approve.

He also realised, even as he watched him smiling politely at her - and staying well out of arms reach – that Robert knew perfectly well just what Danny's mom thought of him. And Danny didn't know how he was supposed to react to that but he felt hot and angry and embarrassed all at once.

His mom had smiled graciously and said that of course Robert was welcome to stay for dinner. Then she'd gone and had an urgent discussion with his dad in the kitchen, and he'd seen his dad look out into the dining room at Robert – less disgusted but equally disapproving – and he'd wanted to just grab Rusty and head for the hills and never, ever look back. Instead he'd contented himself with trying to offer as many silent apologies as he could without his parents noticing. But when Robert looked at him and mouthed, "It's okay," the smile didn't reach Robert's eyes. Because it wasn't okay.

And they sat in silence at first, and Danny watched Robert eat his soup very, very carefully and he never thought that he'd wish that his parents would start arguing with each other. But they were united now, and he hated it.

"So, Robert. That's quite a shiner you have there. What happened?" Danny's dad asked, with the same smile that he tended to give Uncle Harold.

Robert jumped and dripped soup all over the tablecloth. "I'm sorry," he whispered, breathlessly. Danny winced; his mom always hated it when he spilled things on her linens and, true to form, her mouth twisted and she began to complain, even as his dad leapt up and grabbed a wet cloth and leaned over Robert to scrub the stain out. And even though neither of his parents seemed to notice, Danny could see the way that Robert shied away from his dad. The way he gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. Frozen. Waiting. Terrified.

He bit his lip. "You fell, isn't that what you said?" he asked, figuring that making sure his parents didn't ask again would probably be a good idea. "Off a wall." he added, when Robert didn't seem to be able to answer. Might as well expand the lie, make it more realistic.

And at last Robert looked at him and he smiled reassuringly. Robert nodded slowly. "Uh huh. The wall at school. I was playing and I guess I slipped."

"That was careless." Danny's mom said, thin-lipped.

"Boys will be boys," his dad said, with a smile, finishing wiping the tablecloth and ruffling Robert's hair. He didn't seem to notice that Robert was trembling. "Where do you live?" he asked, as he sat back down. "I'll give you a lift home after dinner."

"I can do that, Luke," Danny's mom put in and there was something in the way she looked at him that Danny didn't quite like. "And Danny can come too."

His dad frowned at her for a moment and then seemed to give up and cleared away the dishes. "Green bean casserole." he called, carrying the dish through. "Hope you like it, Robert."

"Yes, thank you, sir." Danny didn't understand why Robert was scared. But the fact that his voice was so steady was seriously impressive.

His dad smiled. "I like that. Maybe you should give Danny some lessons in manners."

His mom frowned. "You never did say where you live, Robert."

"Over on North Sloan Street," Robert said quietly. That meant absolutely nothing to Danny, but judging by the way his dad paused in the act of dishing out the casserole and exchanged a long and serious look with his mom, it meant something to his parents. Something bad. And honestly, did they think that he and Rusty were blind, or stupid? Or did they just not care?

"How . . . nice," his dad said, with a forced smile. "So, what do your parents do?"

"Uh, they don't really do anything. My dad lost his job a little while ago."

"I see." Danny's mom turned to stare at Danny, and he realised that she thought he should be getting something out of this.

"That's tough." he said sympathetically. "Hey, have you seen that new Disney film yet? Freddy's mom is taking a group of us tomorrow. You could come too." And who'd have thought there were ways of lying so that just one person knew you were?

"I'm sure that Freddy's mom doesn't want to be bothered with any more people," his dad said firmly.

He shook his head. "She won't mind." She probably wouldn't, if they did show up. "Come on, it's 'Robin Hood'," he added persuasively.

Robert's eyes lit up. "With the dog?" he asked eagerly.

"Fox," Danny corrected. Maybe they _would_ go and see the movie, after they'd lifted a wallet or two. It could be good fun. "Wanna see?"

"Yeah!" Robert grinned, and Danny realised that they'd definitely be going to see the movie. Oh, well.

The casserole finished, his mom cleared the plates away. "Now, have you got everything Robert? Your coat?"

"I don't have one," Robert said quietly.

"Oh." For a moment his mom seemed completely baffled. "Well, come on anyway. You too, Daniel."

"Perhaps Danny should stay here," his dad interjected, an uneasy look on his face.

"Can I talk to you for a moment, Luke? Dear?" Danny watched as they stepped into the kitchen and had a brief and heated, though mercifully quiet, discussion. He only caught snatches of it.

" . . . Not a good idea to . . . "

" . . . I want him to _see_."

"Just don't think that . . . "

" . . bad influence."

Danny exchanged a long and uncomfortable look with Robert. His mom walked back to them, looking triumphant. "Get your shoes on, Daniel."

He wondered what she was trying to do.

* * *

Dinner had been a complete nightmare. He'd known from the beginning that he and Danny came from very different places, but when Danny hadn't seemed to mind it hadn't occurred to him that his parents would. But he'd seen the way they looked at him and it hurt. There was no way they were going to let Danny spend any more time with him. And he'd been stupid and clumsy and he'd been sure that they were going to punish him, but they hadn't, and he wasn't sure why. Maybe there was no hitting in front of other people. After all, mostly he didn't get hit when people could see. Not something he wanted to rely on though.

The journey back to his place didn't last too long. For all it was a different world, it wasn't that far away. He and Danny shared the backseat, exchanging all the Robin Hood stories that they knew. He liked the one with the archery contest best. But long before he was expecting it, Danny's mom was slowing the car down.

"Which one is it, Robert?"

"Uh, next block. The third one."

She glared at him in the rear view mirror and he felt Danny's concerned gaze on the side of his face. That had been one good thing. Danny didn't seem to see the same things his parents saw. Didn't think that Robert was bad. And somehow that made everything worthwhile.

The car screeched to a halt outside the apartment building and Robert made to leap out. "Thank you very much for the lift, Mrs. Ocean," he said politely and grinned at Danny.

"Wait a minute, Robert." She smiled at him. It wasn't pleasant. "I think that Daniel and I would like to come up."

Oh, that wasn't good. She knew he was bad, and if she told his dad things would get worse.

"There's no need," he said politely and looked imploringly at Danny.

With a look that he didn't quite understand, Danny obliged. "Come on, Mom, Robert can manage to find his home from here. And there's a programme I want to see on TV."

"No, I insist." She opened the car door and, reluctantly, Danny did the same.

"Sorry," he whispered to Robert, despite the fact that he clearly had no idea what he was sorry for.

"It's okay," he whispered back.

The door to the building was open, of course. But at least it wasn't hanging off the hinges like it had been last month. He led them into the hallway, fully conscious of Mrs. Ocean taking in every piece of graffiti, every little bit of garbage and evidence of rats that covered the floor. And he knew that she was forcing Danny to see, to contrast the way he lived with they way they lived. He didn't dare glance back to see Danny's expression. Some things didn't need to be any more difficult than they already were.

They walked in silence up the stairs and Robert knocked on the door and hoped against hope that his parents were actually in and sober enough to answer. Because he had no idea what would happen if they weren't, but it really couldn't be anything good.

Fortunately after a couple of minutes the door swung open and his dad glared down at him. "Where the fuck have you been? Get in here, you little shit." He pulled Robert inside, roughly by the shoulder and stopped on seeing Danny and his mom.

"Good evening, Mr. Ryan." Danny's mom smiled disdainfully. "Your son was over at my house this evening and I was just returning him."

He felt fingers squeeze his shoulder, far too hard, and he bit into his lip.

"That was very kind of you," his dad said after a moment. "I hope the boy wasn't any trouble."

"None at all," she said in a tone that meant "Lots".

His dad dug his fingers in deeper and he couldn't help but gasp.

"You're hurting him!" Danny glared and he smiled to show that it was all right. Because he _was_ in trouble.

"Hush, Daniel," Mrs. Ocean scolded. "Well, we need to be going. Goodnight Mr. Ryan. Robert."

Danny looked straight at him for a long moment and Robert could read sympathy and concern and, yes, friendship in that stare. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rusty."

And he nodded. Worthwhile. All of it.

* * *

Danny sat on the edge of the fountain and worried. He'd snuck out of the house easy enough, despite all his parent's best efforts but the fact that Rusty wasn't here yet had him bothered. As soon as they were back in the car last night, his mom had looked at him and said "Well?" and when he'd answered "Well what?" she'd been less than happy. In fact, it had started a long talk on how he needed to respect her, which had followed very nicely into a monologue on how he needed to be far more careful what sort of people he spent time with, let alone invited back to the house. It was quite impressive. Without her ever using any actually insulting words, she made it quite clear just what she thought of Robert, and Danny had to bite back several words of his own.

In the end he'd managed to neither agree nor disagree when she ordered him not to spend any more time with Robert. Because there was a part of him that couldn't quite believe that he was willing to go so far for a boy – a boy nearly three years younger than him – whom he'd known for less than a week. But there was another part of him that felt prepared to go a whole lot further, and that part thought that maybe children shouldn't be scared of adults the way Robert was, and maybe lying about bruises and not liking to be touched, and always being hungry and not having nice clothes, and having a father who didn't care that he hurt you . . . maybe it added up to something that he just wasn't quite able to get his head around. Something that made him sick just to think about.

And he'd snuck out of the house and was waiting round the corner from the diner they'd been in before, just like they'd said, and Rusty was late and Danny was worrying. He was sure that Robert would be here any moment though. Probably just got the time wrong or something. He'd be here soon, and they'd go and find another couple of wallets, and it'd be fun, and then they'd go to the movies and he'd see how much popcorn Robert could eat and they wouldn't need to worry about anything for the rest of the day.

Finally, Rusty appeared and Danny forgot how to think. The black eye yesterday had horrified him. This hurt in more ways than he could even understand. The left-hand side of Robert's face was a solid mass of swollen purple, except for the few bits that were bloodied instead. He was hunched over, his arm cradled in to his chest. And when he saw Danny and tried to smile a bead of blood fell off his lip.

They stood looking at each other for a moment. "Come on." Danny said, at last, gently.

"Where?" Robert asked.

"That diner round the corner. The one we went to before. Think you need to sit down before you fall down."

"It's fine." He tried to shrug and winced. Danny blinked back tears. Not helpful right now.

"Come on," he repeated, and led Rusty round the corner.

The moment they set foot in the door, the lady from before was all over them. "Oh my, come in and sit down." she said, flipping the sign to 'Closed' and getting them settled at the nearest table. "What happened, honey?" she asked Robert softly, reaching out to rub at his shoulder. Rusty flinched and Danny closed his eyes briefly.

"He's bruised everywhere," he explained, almost apologetically.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Let me go and get the first aid kit." She hurried off.

"Danny, let's go." Robert said quietly, staring at the door.

He crouched down in front of Rusty. "She isn't going to hurt you, Rusty," he promised. Because he was sure of it. "Let her help you. Please."

He was rewarded with a careful smile. "That's the second time you've called me that."

"What?" he frowned and then realised. "Oh. Sorry."

"You can call me it if you want. I like it. It ends in 'Y'."

"Yes, it does." He grinned, happy to have done something right.

Mabel came back, laden down with gauze and bandages and antiseptic and arnica cream. "Okay, sweetie. Tilt your head back and let me get a look."

With a quick glance at Danny, Rusty obeyed. Mabel looked him over carefully and sighed. "Oh, honey. How did this happen?"

"There were some big kids and they said that my cousin had stolen something from them and they . . . they hit me and I fell down the stairs." It was a good lie. Danny could hear it in every word, but Mabel looked completely taken in. Completely furious, but definitely taken in. "They said they were sorry," Rusty added sweetly.

"Do you know who they were?" Mabel demanded. Rusty shrank back. "I'm not angry at you, honey," she added in a softer tone of voice. Behind her, Danny smiled at Rusty and willed him to see the truth in her words.

Rusty relaxed a little. "I didn't know them."

"Okay. Listen, I need to clean out those cuts on your face, okay?" She held up the antiseptic bottle. Rusty looked at it suspiciously.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's just antiseptic," she assured him. "Just like your mom uses." She opened it and looked surprised. "It's empty. I'm sure I bought another one the other day. Just a minute." She ran into the back.

Rusty shot a confused look at Danny and he realised that Rusty still had no idea what was going on. He smiled slightly. "It'll clean your cuts and stop them getting infected," he explained and tried not to think what it meant that Rusty didn't recognise medicine. He hesitated, because he supposed he'd lied a little. "It'll hurt but it's good for you."

"Because I'm bad." Rusty nodded understandingly.

"No!" Without even noticing it, he took Rusty's hand in his own. Rusty didn't seem to mind at all. "You're not bad," he said quietly. "Not at all."

And there were so many more things that he wanted to say, about how wrong his parents were, and how wrong Rusty's parents were, and hell, how wrong the _world_ was, but Rusty was looking completely lost, so he contented himself with stroking his hand and whispering, "I'm glad I tried to steal your lunch."

It sounded so stupid and inadequate, but Rusty smiled at him. "Me too."

And he realised in that moment that Rusty was the best friend he'd ever had, and he was prepared to do anything to help him.

If only he knew how.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and I would really value all opinions on this. ;D**


	15. Never ending conversation Part 1

**Third part of the four part story arc, set a few days after the last chapter.**

* * *

They ended up curled up in Danny's bedroom on Monday night, partly because Rusty's bruises were still dark enough to get them stared at if they went out, but mostly because it was raining. Technically speaking Danny was still grounded and shouldn't have been having visitors but his mom had been screaming at his dad over breakfast – apparently Dad had stayed out all night again – and Danny had been happily forgotten. Again.

They listened to the radio for a while and made fun of the DJ but Danny couldn't stop thinking. He hadn't been able to persuade Rusty to come back home with him on Saturday and he'd been frantic with worry for the rest of the weekend. Because he honestly didn't know what Rusty was facing but that didn't stop him from feeling scared and helpless. And he hated that feeling.

The rest of Saturday they'd spent at Mabel's and Danny had _seen_ how hurt Rusty was. The bruises. The blood. It was a lot more exciting when it was on the movies. When it was just some random actor who'd have washed it all off by the next scene, not a seven year old who struggled not to wince every time he moved, and never, ever made a sound no matter how much it hurt. And Danny had watched Rusty steel himself every time Mabel came near and do everything but cringe with every gentle touch as she treated his injuries. And it broke Danny's heart.

"Just say it," Rusty said seriously as the DJ launched into a full-throated chicken impersonation.

Danny looked round at him. "What?" he asked startled.

Rusty sighed. "You've been looking at me strange all day. There's something on your mind."

"Yeah. Something." Danny frowned and tried to figure out just what he wanted to say. He sighed. "My parents were really angry with me for sneaking out on Saturday," he began.

Rusty looked up sharply. "If you don't want – "

And Danny just _knew _what he was going to say. '_If you don't want to be friends anymore that's okay_.' " – I do," he interrupted hastily. "That's not what I meant."

"I'd understand." Rusty assured him quietly.

"I wouldn't," Danny said and smiled. "Wasn't what I was going to say."

Rusty cocked his head. "Then – "

"My parents were angry. They yelled a lot. Said I was stupid and thoughtless and irresponsible. All that sort of stuff. And they grounded me for a couple of weeks; though I think they've forgotten about it now." He was watching Rusty's face very carefully and he saw the concern and worry replaced by relief and puzzlement.

"They didn't . . . " Rusty trailed off.

"What?" Danny asked gently.

"They didn't punish you?" Rusty asked quietly.

Danny did his best to keep his face neutral but Rusty still frowned at him, obviously aware that he'd said something wrong. Danny sighed. "The grounding was the punishment," he explained.

"But they didn't hit you?" Rusty's voice was anxious.

"No," Danny said wearily and more than anything he wished that he'd been wrong. "They don't do that."

"Good." Rusty said simply and there was a long silence while Danny willed himself to ask the next question.

"Rusty?" he said at last and the fact that his voice was steady was a matter of sheer willpower. "What happened after me and Mom left on Friday night?"

Rusty looked away uncomfortably. "He was angry. He doesn't like it when people come by like that."

Danny swallowed. "What did he do?"

"Taught me a lesson." Rusty shrugged. As though it was obvious.

"What did he do?" And he despised the harshness in his own voice but he couldn't help it.

Rusty opened his mouth and Danny just knew that he was going to lie, and he met Rusty's eyes and silently begged him, and they stared at each other for a long moment. In the end Rusty looked away first and took a deep breath. "He just hit me a couple of times. It's not a big deal." And his voice was calm and reassuring and he believed every word.

Only it was a big deal and this was surely beyond what Danny could reasonably be expected to cope with. And the part of him that was imagining Rusty's dad hitting him 'just a couple of times' felt sick and angry. "It's not right. We need to tell someone."

"Why?" Rusty frowned and there was a hint of fear in his eyes. "Telling just makes it worse. If you tell then everyone will know . . . "

"What?" Danny asked gently.

"Everyone will know I'm bad." Rusty said quietly.

Danny took a deep breath. "You're not bad," he said firmly, but Rusty looked unconvinced. "It isn't right."

"They're my parents. They can do what they like," Rusty argued persuasively. "It's normal; no-one's going to care. All that happens if you tell is that I get punished for whining." And there was complete conviction in Rusty's voice and Danny found himself hesitating.

"That's not what would happen," he said weakly and Rusty looked at him and shook his head sadly.

"It's normal. It's just life."

"No," Danny protested. He looked at the fading bruises on Rusty's face. This wasn't just life. Surely.

Rusty smiled at him. "Look, why don't we go watch TV and forget about it."

Danny sighed and capitulated and they went downstairs and watched Bugs Bunny. But he didn't forget about it.

* * *

He took a handful of potato chips and watched Danny carefully. It was obvious that Danny was still worrying about something, and Rusty was pretty sure it was because of their conversation last night. Honestly, there had to be some way that he could persuade Danny that it really wasn't that bad. Because it wasn't. Sometimes he was bad, and then he got hurt and then it was all forgotten. And maybe it wasn't quite normal; maybe it didn't happen to other people so much, but it was his life and he was doing fine. He shouldn't have told Danny at all. Except it seemed like Danny already knew. And lying to Danny . . . well, for one thing it didn't seem to work too well. And for another thing, it just felt wrong. But if Danny told anyone then it would be like when Brady had told Miss Harris about the lunch thing. People would look at him differently, and they'd tell his parents that he'd been complaining and it would just be more pain and humiliation and nothing would change. Anyway, whatever his dad said, he wasn't a whiner.

But the other thing - the thing that was really bothering him – was the way that Danny had looked at him on Saturday. As if it mattered. As if he didn't like seeing Rusty hurt. Because, okay, it was bad. It hadn't been that bad for a while, not since Mom and Dad had come home unexpectedly and caught him eating smashed cookie crumbs off the floor. And he'd been punished for being disgusting and like a wild animal, and he'd been ashamed, and he'd agreed, but they'd been gone so long that time, and he'd been so scared that they weren't going to come back that he'd actually taken to knocking at the door, hoping that one of the neighbours would hear and let him out. But all that'd happened was that he'd got blood smeared all over the woodwork. The cookies had been the last thing in the cupboard. He'd eaten the rest, even though he'd tried to make it last. And they were so high up and even standing on a chair he'd only just been able to grab the corner of the bag and he'd stretched and tugged at them, and somehow he'd overbalanced and fallen off the chair, and he'd landed on the cookies and the bag had burst and the cookies had got all smashed. He'd gathered up all the big bits first, and that had kept him going for another day, but in the end he'd been picking up the crumbs from the carpet. And that had been when they'd come home. And yeah, there'd been a lot of pain, and a lot of screaming, but afterwards his mom had picked him up off the floor and what had really hurt had been the look in her eyes when she scrubbed the blood off his face and asked why he had to be so bad. He just didn't know.

"Hey," Danny spoke quietly but there was urgency in his voice. Rusty blinked and the schoolyard came back into focus. "Are you okay?"

He took a long moment, and glanced down and with a grimace brushed the crushed potato chips off his hands. What a waste. "Yeah. Went away a little." He couldn't really explain it.

Danny didn't look in the slightest bit reassured. "What were you thinking about?"

He hesitated. "Just stuff."

"Bad stuff?" Danny asked and he didn't seem to want to let this go.

"Stuff," Rusty answered.

"Your parents," Danny said, and it wasn't a guess.

He nodded, because it was true.

"You need to tell someone." And Danny's voice was firm but there was a crack of desperation in it.

He sighed. "Danny – "

" – If you don't I will," Danny said firmly.

And that wasn't good. "Don't. Please." He heard his voice tremble slightly.

Danny bit his lip and said nothing and Freddy, Buzz and Doug came round the corner. Not good. Danny had already been getting a certain amount of hassle for hanging around with him. He'd suggested that maybe they should only meet up outside school, because it would be safer, and Danny had just looked at him and asked if that was what he really wanted. And in the end he'd grinned and told the truth. Of course it wasn't what he wanted. And it wasn't what Danny wanted either. But there were always going to be consequences.

Doug smiled. "Hey, Danny, wanna come shoot some hoops?"

Danny turned to look at him. "You want to?" he asked.

Rusty shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"No." Freddy glared. "Just you. Unless you want to hang around with the baby forever."

There was a pause, and Rusty could tell that Danny was angry, even though he was still smiling. "I'll hang around with who I like, Freddy. Rusty's my friend."

Unexpectedly Buzz frowned and stepped in. "Hey, I know Robert. He lives on the block behind me. He's all right."

Oh yeah. He could vaguely remember seeing Buzz hide round the back of his building and then being asked by Mr Frost and Mrs Santos, and a few others who might as well have been holding pitchforks and flaming torches, if he'd seen him. Of course he'd lied. He grinned. "It's Rusty now. Not Robert."

Buzz shrugged. "Cool."

"I don't care what his name is, he can't hang out with us," Freddy burst out angrily.

Danny abruptly made as if to stand up and Rusty glared at him. Not a good idea. Danny stared back and Rusty silently reminded him that they didn't have a hope of taking the three of them. Or the two of them, if Buzz stayed out of it.

"Go play basketball," he advised quietly and the look of hurt that Danny turned on him made him look away.

"Fine." Danny ground out. "I'll see you later."

He stared after them for a little while and then he went off to find his friends.

* * *

Danny waited until the other kids had run out of the class before he walked up to Mrs O'Donnell's desk and stood staring down at her as she marked papers.

"Mrs O'Donnell," he said, when she showed no signs of acknowledging him.

"What is it, Danny?" she asked distractedly.

Part of him wanted to say that it was nothing and just head outside. Meet up with Rusty. Maybe go and lift a couple of wallets and take in that movie. Because he'd practiced this conversation in so many different ways, and he still had no idea how it was supposed to go. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

She sighed and put down her pen. "Danny, if this is about your detention it's out of my hands. You left me no choice. You're a bright kid, if you'd just apply yourself . . . "

"No. It's important," he emphasised and she looked taken aback.

For the first time she actually looked at him. "Well what can I do for you?"

Danny took a deep breath and looked down at the ground for a long moment. He felt like a traitor. But what else could he do? "It's wrong for adults to hit children, isn't it?"

That got her attention. She looked at him carefully. "Well, that depends. Sometimes corporal punishment is appropriate. Parents and even teachers need to enforce discipline and sometimes suitable physical chastisement is the only effective course of action."

She sounded like she was reciting something and Danny tried to translate in his head. "You mean sometimes children need to be hurt to teach them a lesson?" Sounded just like what Rusty had said and he could hear the incredulous disbelief in his voice.

"Sometimes." She really didn't look comfortable with this conversation. "But sometimes it goes too far." She swallowed nervously. "Danny, is someone hurting you?"

He shook his head quickly. "A friend of mine." She looked sceptical. He sighed. "Really," he said sincerely.

She nodded and looked almost convinced. "Can you tell me your friend's name."

And this was the difficult part. Rusty had asked him not to tell, and just because he hadn't actually promised didn't mean that this wasn't a kind of betrayal. But everything in him told him that this couldn't continue. He couldn't watch Rusty get beat up for the rest of his life. He took a deep breath. "Robert Ryan. He's in Miss Harris' class. He's my partner for that paired reading programme."

He watched as she nodded and made a note of Rusty's name. "And what did he tell you?" he asked gently.

"He's got a lot of bruises. On his face and his arms and body. I asked how he got them and he said his dad got angry and hit him." Funny. This made him think of all the other times he'd stood in front of a teacher trying to convince them of something. It had always been a lie before. And it had never been this important.

She nodded again and he wondered how she could be so calm. He had no idea why everyone wasn't as horrified as he was. _(Unless Rusty was right and this really was just life)_ "Thank you for telling me this, Danny. I know it can't have been easy."

She had no idea . . . "You're going to do something about it now, aren't you?" He stared at her, willing her to promise that things were going to get better.

And she wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "We're going to take the appropriate steps."

* * *

He was bored. He was really, really bored. Why they had to colour in pictures of elephants was beyond him. There were surely better things that they could be doing. Like almost anything, he'd have thought.

There was a knock at the door and an older girl skipped in and gave Miss Harris a note. Something new and different. Everyone looked up expectantly.

"Back to work, please," Miss Harris said sharply. "Robert, you're wanted in the Principal's office. Bring your worksheet up here please."

Well, that couldn't be good. He hadn't done anything wrong, he was almost certain of it. Or at least nothing that he'd be called to the Principal's office for. He put away the crayons very, very slowly, shuffled up to Miss Harrison's desk and handed over his colouring.

She looked at it and sighed. "Robert. Why is your elephant green?"

He blinked innocently at her. "It was kept in the fridge too long?" he suggested.

She stared at him for a long moment, slowly shaking her head. He didn't fidget or look away. He knew perfectly well that she didn't think he was too bright, and for the most part he liked it that way. Finally she sighed again. "Go."

He left and didn't start grinning till he was out the door. As he wandered round the Principal's office he tried to think about why. Could be about the whole pretending-not-to-be-able-to-read thing. If Danny could see through it then it was just possible that someone else had noticed. Or it could be the fact that he'd done Tommy's maths homework in exchange for half a Hershey bar. He still thought that maybe he'd been had on that deal, but at the time he'd really wanted the chocolate. Could even be that someone had seen him stealing. Just because he never did it anywhere near the school didn't mean that it couldn't get back to them. And it was just possible that it was about home, but he doubted it. He'd already had the 'Where did those bruises come from' conversation with Miss Harris, who didn't think that he was smart enough to lie.

He was still wondering when he knocked on the office door. "Come in." Principal Mallie's voice came immediately. Probably a good sign; if he was in trouble she'd have kept him waiting.

Head bowed he walked in slowly. "Hello," he said shyly.

"Robert." She smiled at him warmly. "Have a seat. Have a cookie."

Oh. It was going to be one of those conversations. He wondered what had happened. "Thank you." He chose one with chocolate chunks and nibbled on it.

"Now, Robert I wonder if you know why you're here?" she asked gently.

Yes. "No," he said quietly. She wasn't going to trick him into anything.

"We've had some concerning reports about you. Apparently you told another student that your father was responsible for those bruises, is that right?"

He froze. Danny had told on him. He'd asked Danny not to say anything, not to tell. He'd told him what would happen and Danny had still told. How could he? _How could he_?

Thinking fast he shuffled nervously.

"Robert?" she prompted softly.

"I didn't mean to," he blurted out, his voice far too loud in the small office. "He was being nice to me, and I wanted him to like me and I thought that he'd stay if he felt sorry for me and I'm really, really sorry and I promise I'll never do it again." By the end of his little speech his voice was trembling and the tears were showing.

The Principal frowned. "You lied."

He nodded fervently. "I saw on TV this boy whose parent's hit him, and he had lots of friends, and everyone liked him and, and . . . " He wiped at his eyes with his hand. He'd learned a long time ago that outside of his family people tended to be nice to children when they cried. Probably to make them stop. Other than that he didn't see the point of it.

She handed him the tissue and he peered up at her through his hair. Not completely convinced, but there were hints of exasperation and disgust in her eyes. That was good. Well, she'd probably tell his parents that he'd made a pathetic scene in her office, but it was better that than they thought he'd told. "So how _did_ you get those bruises?"

This was the easy part. He'd told this story before and Mabel and Miss Harris had swallowed it easy. (_Danny hadn't. But he wasn't going to think of that now_.) "Some big boys were shoving me around and I tripped up and fell down the stairs. They said they were sorry and then they ran away. But I was a big boy and didn't cry." He looked up at that and beamed, like he'd seen Brady do the other week when he'd scraped his knee the other week. Like not crying was something to be proud of.

And she smiled in response. "That was very brave of you, Robert." Her eyes narrowed. "Did your parents take you to a doctor?"

Ah. That was unexpected. He wasn't sure what the right answer was. They hadn't of course, it wasn't worth it, but if he wasn't bad would they have been expected to? But if he lied and said they had there'd be more questions, and more questions was never good. He shook his head dumbly. "It wasn't that bad." He thought of Mabel. "Mom put on a whole lot of antiseptic." He let his expression slide into a scowl. "It hurt."

"It's good for you," she told him absently. He got the feeling that the meeting was coming to an end. With a start he realised that he'd have to run home and tell his parents what had happened. Because just in case she did decide to take it further they needed to know what story he was telling. "Well, thank you Robert. I think that's everything I needed to know. And you won't tell that sort of lie again, will you?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said sincerely.

"And I think you owe your friend an apology, don't you?" she watched him closely.

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He'd certainly be talking with Danny.

She frowned. "And I think that a detention is in order for all the fuss you've caused, don't you?"

He wondered if he could get away with saying 'no'. Somehow he doubted it, and he scowled slightly instead. She looked amused at the small show of defiance, just as he'd wanted.

"Tomorrow, after school. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." That was an easier one.

"I'll expect to see you then." He recognised a dismissal when he heard it, and he stood and silently left the office.

School was nearly over. And he had to find Danny before he went home.

* * *

Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked out of the classroom and Rusty stepped out of nowhere and glared at him. And he knew what this was about immediately.

"I had to," he said, even before Rusty opened his mouth.

Rusty carried on glaring, and obviously he didn't see it that way.

"It isn't right," he explained.

Rusty shook his head, but said nothing.

He swallowed. "What's going to happen?"

"Nothing." Rusty said immediately. He smiled suddenly, in a way that Danny had never seen before. "I lied to you before."

"What?" Danny asked, taken aback.

"My dad doesn't hit me. I fell down the stairs." He was looking Danny right in the eye, and he spoke simply and sincerely.

Danny shook his head. "What are you saying?"

"I lied to you." Rusty repeated.

"You're lying now," he pointed out. He just knew it. Couldn't explain how, but it was obvious. He gazed pleadingly at Rusty. "Why?"

Rusty grinned humourlessly. "I need to get home."

And he turned and left and didn't look back, and with a moment of agonising clarity, Danny realised that he'd just lost something important.

* * *

**Look, it's a prequel type of thing. You know what happens. So it's not a bad place to leave it.**


	16. Never ending conversation Part 2

**This is the last part of this little story arc, set the night after the last chapter.**

* * *

It was getting dark. Danny sat on the edge of his bed and waited. He was pretty sure that his parents would be up soon. For once they'd been getting along; dinner had been noticeably full of smiles and civility; and he'd been planning on telling them about Rusty, asking them for help while the going was good. Because there was a small part of him – a tiny, tiny part that he despised – that still thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could make them listen and if they actually _wanted_ to, his parents could fix everything. Then the phone had rang. Principal Mallie. And he could just imagine what she was telling them. His mom had taken the call and she'd just looked at him while she was talking, and he'd watched the anger and disappointment blossom on her face. Afterwards he'd been sent upstairs while she talked to his dad.

The door opened and his parents walked in. He kind of wished they'd knock. Just for politeness.

"Daniel. That was your principal on the phone," his mom began. As if he didn't know that.

"Uh huh?" He kept his voice light and curious. Innocent, even. Which, really, he was this time.

She frowned. "Don't say that. It's vulgar."

He smiled apologetically and kept his mouth shut.

"It's about your friend," his dad interrupted. "The one you brought home the other day. Robert Ryan."

And honestly, he knew that too. "What about him?" he asked, in the same innocent tone.

"Apparently you told your teacher that he was . . . " his dad trailed off awkwardly and glanced at his mom.

"That his parents are too strict with him," she said and she seemed uncomfortable.

Danny took a deep breath. "No. I told her that Rusty's dad hurts him."

They exchanged a long look.

"Really hurts him," Danny added. "He gave him that black eye."

His dad sighed. "I'm sorry, Danny." And he really did sound regretful. "Your friend was lying to you."

"No he wasn't," Danny said simply.

"Yes he was," his mom said sharply.

"No. He wasn't." Danny repeated.

"Look. We're not going to argue with you like this." He heard the frustration in his dad's voice and kept his face blank. "He confessed. Apparently he wanted you to feel sorry for him, so he made it all up."

The very last thing that Rusty ever wanted was for Danny to feel sorry for him. He knew that as surely as he knew his own name. But he didn't think his parents would understand. He looked straight at his mom. "When we left him with his dad on Friday night, his dad beat him up. It was probably happening while we were walking down the stairs."

She looked back at him. "He was lying, Daniel. He was taking advantage of you. And this is why you shouldn't spend time with that kind of person."

"He was taking advantage of me?" Danny asked incredulously. Because that was close to being the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"You're young, Danny," his dad said with a sad smile. "Naïve. You'll learn not to fall for every chancer with a hard luck story."

"He's seven and he's got more bruises than skin! He never wanted to tell me, I made him! He lied to Principal Mallie, not to me!" The words fell out of him before he had any time to consider.

"Why would he lie, Daniel?" His mom pounced softly. "If he was telling the truth, why wouldn't he want help? Why wouldn't he tell someone himself? Why just you?"

And Danny had to pause. "He thinks he deserves it?" He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice, because he honestly didn't understand that part.

She smiled triumphantly. "Really?" she asked sceptically. "Why?"

Danny didn't have an answer. He knew what was real and what was true, but he couldn't even begin to explain why. "We have to help him," he said simply, and his voice was trembling, and really he was begging and he already knew it was _all for nothing_. "Please."

His mom shook her head. His dad looked away for a long moment. "Danny. You need to understand." He paused, awkwardly. "Maybe there are things in your friend's life that disturb you. Your mom told me about his home, and I'm sorry you had to see that. But you need to understand that you're very lucky. You've got everything you could want. Not everyone's that fortunate."

He wondered if either of them had any idea what he wanted.

"And you should be grateful," his mom cut in sharply. "I work hard to provide you with all this – "

" – _We_ work hard," his dad interrupted frowning.

"We work hard," she conceded, without missing a beat, "And the least you could do is be properly thankful and not constantly show us up in front of everyone."

He stared at the floor, his soul burning and didn't tell them that he'd never asked for what they gave him. He'd asked them to believe him. He'd asked them to help Rusty. And they'd said no.

After they left, he lay back on the bed and wondered if he was wrong. He saw Rusty walking around in pain and he wanted it to stop. But no-one else seemed to see what he saw – his parents, the teachers, Rusty himself. Maybe as far as the world was concerned it really wasn't a problem. Just part of life. Not a big deal; that was what Rusty had said. It's normal. Sometimes children need to be hurt to teach them a lesson.

He realised with surprise that there were tears in his eyes.

* * *

The sound of laughter woke Rusty up. He hadn't meant to fall asleep; he'd been reading the book Danny had leant him, waiting for his parents to get in. He crept closer to his bedroom door and leaned his ear against it. Giggling and glasses clinking. Sounded like they were drunk and in a happy mood. Normally he avoided them at times like this, because they'd be kissing and doing other things that made him uncomfortable. But he wasn't convinced that they weren't suddenly going to hear from Principal Mallie, and he needed to protect himself and make sure that they would tell the same story. And of course he'd be in trouble, and Dad would probably be angry, but he had broken the rules, so he kind of had it coming.

Taking a deep breath he pushed the door open. They broke apart and turned to stare at him in surprise. "I need to talk to you," he said quietly.

"Mommy and Daddy are busy right now. Come back later," his mom slurred. She lurched slightly towards him, waving her hand at his head. He didn't know if she was trying to slap him or pet him, but at any rate he stepped back warily.

"I was sent to the Principal today," he continued, satisfied that they were both just about capable of listening to him.

"What did you do now, you little shit?" His dad's voice was quiet in a way that sent a chill running down his spine and had him desperately trying to measure the distance to the front door. Not doable; they were in the way.

"She was asking about the bruises. I didn't tell anyone, I promise." And that was a lie, he supposed, but he didn't want to get Danny in trouble. No matter what, he couldn't do that.

Quicker than he would have thought possible, Dad stepped forwards and grabbed his hair and pulled him up, forcing him to stand on the very tips of his feet. He didn't cry out. Didn't struggle. Didn't _whine_. And he certainly didn't let any of the tears that gathered in his eyes fall. He could be good, if he tried. But still, for a few moments the pain was all there was and he wondered if it was possible for hair to bleed.

Dimly he heard his parents' bedroom door close. His mom must have got bored or upset or something and left the room. She did that a lot. Sometimes he thought that maybe she was scared of blood, like the girls in his class who screamed every time Toby Farr got a nosebleed.

His Dad bent down, breathing in his face. "What did you tell her?"

"I said some big kids beat me up and threw me down the stairs," he managed to say, but he could hear the weakness in his own voice. The pain.

He was hauled just a little higher, and the pain was just a little worse and his feet scrabbled at the floor, trying to get a grip. "Stupid brat, they'll want to know who."

"Said I didn't see." His voice was shaking. "They don't know anything."

"They'd better not. Else they'll take you away. They'll take you away and lock you up and you'll never see sunlight again. They'll feed you on old kitchen scraps, when they happen to remember, and every time you fuck up – and you will fuck up, won't you, you useless bastard? Every time you fuck up they'll beat you senseless. No-one else would go soft on you, like I do." The threat was no less terrifying for being so often repeated. "Is that what you want?"

"No, Dad," he shook his head. It hurt.

"So what do you say?" his dad demanded.

"Thank you," he whispered. He hated this part. Because he understood that he was bad, he understood that, mostly, it was all his fault, but he wasn't thankful and he never would be.

"That's right. Ungrateful shit." He let go of Rusty's hair unexpectedly and Rusty fell to the floor in a painful heap.

He was on his feet almost immediately, before his dad had time to kick him more than once. He held himself still, waiting, looking his dad straight in the eye, and after an endless moment, his dad gave a vaguely approving grunt and headed to the bedroom.

Sagging with relief, Rusty grinned and headed to the kitchen. He'd get a glass of milk and some cereal or something and go back to his book. Because really, that could have gone a whole lot worse.

* * *

Danny had been looking forward to the last hour of the day. Because Rusty might have been able to dodge him before school and at morning break and at lunch, but it would be just a little bit difficult for him to hide during the hour of reading practice they shared. And he wanted the opportunity to talk - to try and put things right – because for the past week the world had suddenly seemed so much brighter and so much more interesting. He liked being with Rusty' it made him feel like he was more than he had been. And maybe he was the only one who felt that way, but somehow he doubted it. They weren't going to end like this. Not before they'd begun. He wasn't going to let them.

And so he leaned back in his chair and projected an air of relaxed calm while he waited for Rusty. He even managed to keep up the act as five minutes went by, then ten, and he began to feel just a little bit desperate inside. Rusty finally appeared, fifteen minutes late and escorted by Mrs Richards. He looked wary and trapped and though there were no new injuries that Danny could _see_ he was clearly moving more stiffly than he had been before, as though he was compensating for pain that Danny could only guess at. And this was how life was supposed to be? He didn't even know how he was supposed to accept that.

Mrs Richards was glaring down at Rusty. "Now. What do you say to Daniel?" she asked sharply. Danny gritted his teeth and managed to keep his mouth shut.

Rusty stared down at the floor. "Sorry for wasting your time, Danny." he said very quietly and Danny could hear the humiliation and he hated it.

"That's right." Mrs Richards nodded approvingly and turned to look at Danny. "I am sorry that you had to wait, Daniel. _Someone_," And her voice turned arch and knowing, "Someone didn't want to come to his reading lesson."

Danny smiled at her. "That's perfectly all right, Mrs Richards. We'll be fine now." Go away and leave us alone, he screamed mentally and Rusty looked up at him sharply.

She stood, hovering over the pair of them for a couple of moments before she made a clucking noise with her tongue and shook her head. "I'd better not have any more nonsense out of you for the rest of the afternoon, do you understand, Robert?"

Rusty nodded obediently and that seemed to satisfy her as she walked off to listen in to one of the other pairs.

There was a brief but awkward moment of silence.

Danny sighed. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested.

Rusty did so and looked at him sharply. "I'm not really sorry."

"I wouldn't want you to be." Danny answered immediately. Rusty still looked wary and with a start, Danny realised that he couldn't force Rusty into anything. "We don't have to talk," he said, reluctantly. "We can just - "

Rusty was already nodding. " – pretend that we aren't – "

" – Yes." Danny agreed, and it hurt him. "Get your reading book out," he advised. They didn't want to attract anymore attention.

With a grimace, Rusty pulled out the book. 'Timmy Saves the Day'. It had a picture of a tiger wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket on the front.

Danny frowned at it. "You know what I don't get?"

"Why the tiger looks like the Fonz?" Rusty suggested.

"No." Danny shook his head, then looked closer at the book. "Though now you come to mention it . . . " There was a certain resemblance. "I don't get why these books are always about animals."

"Kids like animals." Rusty shrugged.

"Really." Danny considered this for a moment. "Huh."

"I don't get why they're never wearing pants." Rusty commented. Danny caught his eye and laughed, and immediately Rusty looked down at the book and flipped it to the first page. Right. Nothing was ever going to be that easy.

Mrs Richards drifted closer and Rusty immediately started reading, theatrically stumbling over random words until Danny's quiet voice gave him the answer. Such a stupid game they were playing and Rusty refused to look at him for the rest of the time.

It wasn't until the bell rang and Rusty was stuffing the book back in his bag as quickly as possible that Danny managed to bring himself to quietly say "I had to try."

For a moment it looked as though Rusty was going to say something. Just for a moment. And then he turned and ran out the door.

* * *

Rusty had never actually had a detention before. Not a proper one. From time to time he'd been kept in over break or lunch, but that had mostly been attempts to help him with his reading problems, or to try and trick him into admitting the truth about how he'd got hurt. This was a new experience, and it wasn't one he was particularly looking forward to.

He was still breathing hard from running away from Danny when he settled into his seat at the back of the classroom. It had been as difficult as he'd thought. He'd known perfectly well that the moment he looked at Danny he'd lose. (_Or win_.) It wasn't even a case of immediately forgiving him, the moment they'd been together it had been like there was nothing that could ever need forgiven. And he just didn't know how to cope with that, so he'd pretended and he knew that he'd hurt Danny. He wasn't supposed to need people. People weren't supposed to need him. People weren't supposed to _see_ him. And try as he might, he couldn't figure out what Danny was getting out of this.

Someone sat down at the next desk and he didn't need to look round. He already knew who it was.

"What'd you do?" he asked Danny.

"This and that. Talking in class, not handing in homework, turning my worksheet into a paper crane, telling Freddy he doesn't have the brains of a dead caterpillar."

"To be fair, I think he _does_ have the brains of a dead caterpillar," Rusty pointed out.

Danny laughed. "How about you? What did you do?"

"Lied to you," he said simply.

There was a pause. "Ironic," Danny commented.

Mr Green swept into the room and they both shut up and succeeded in looking attentive while he handed out pencil and paper and wrote "I will show respect for my teachers, my peers and myself whilst in the school setting" on the blackboard.

"You will copy that out for the entire hour. And if I hear any talking there will be trouble," he said, looking round the classroom. Most of the kids looked resigned.

Rusty waited until Mr Green had settled himself at the teacher's desk with a pile of marking. Then, without really stopping to consider it, he scribbled "_Why_?" on a sheet of paper and passed it over to Danny.

He didn't look round. But he could feel Danny looking at him for a long time. Finally the paper was passed back to him. "_Because it's wrong_."

The words stared up at him, there in black and white, and he wondered how Danny could make it sound so simple. "It's not that bad," he whispered.

Danny stared at him. "I saw you on Saturday, remember?" He did remember, and more than that he remembered the look in Danny's eyes. The pain and the anger that he'd instinctively understood would never ever be aimed at him. It had hurt.

"I'm almost better now," he pointed out. "The bruises are nearly all gone." At any rate they were fading nicely.

"And you've got some new ones, haven't you?" Danny whispered savagely, and Rusty wondered how he could possibly know.

He sighed. "It was just because – "

" – Because I told, right?" Danny interrupted.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I'm sorry," Danny said, very, very quietly.

Rusty blinked. "Why?" he asked again.

"I don't want you hurt." Danny's voice was soft and intense and he plainly meant every word.

"It's my own fault," Rusty reassured him. "I never learn my lesson."

He watched, fascinated as Danny gripped the edge of the desk so tight his knuckles whitened. "No. It's not your fault. I'll never believe that there's anything you could do that would make this right."

"It's just the way the world works," he explained wearily. Nothing was going to change, no matter what Danny said or did.

"Yes," Danny agreed, to his surprise. Then he turned round and smiled straight at Rusty. "And I don't want any part of it," he said out loud and every head in the classroom turned to stare at them.

Even as Mr Green started yelling at them, Rusty continued to stare at Danny. Because just for a moment he thought that maybe his friend could change their world.

* * *

They walked out of detention together. Danny wasn't exactly sure how, but somehow everything seemed to be sorted. Except, even at the risk of ruining everything, he had to make one thing clear. "I'm not going to stop trying to make them listen," he told Rusty seriously.

Rusty nodded and looked unsurprised. "I wasn't expecting you to." He sounded amused.

"You don't think – " he started and Rusty agreed.

" – No-one cares, Danny." Rusty smiled at him.

And of course Danny wanted to be able to argue, but honestly so far it seemed as though Rusty was right. "Doesn't make it right," he said quietly and watched the look of puzzlement on Rusty's face. "It's not right," he repeated, emphatically.

Rusty shrugged but didn't seem in the mood to argue. They walked in contented silence to the school gate where a small crowd was gathered. Danny recognised several of the boys from his class and sighed. Somehow, he didn't think that this was going to be fun.

"With the baby again, Danny?" Freddy pushed his way to the front.

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "What do you want, Freddy?" he asked.

Freddy ignored him. "You know, I thought you were cool. But you're just stuck up, and I'm going to teach you a lesson."

Right. This. Nothing he hadn't dealt with before, and it wasn't like his parents weren't used to getting complaints about him fighting, even if he really didn't see the point of it. He dropped his bag on the edge of the circle that had quickly formed, and with a stern glance, told Rusty to keep out of it. The incredulous look that he received back wasn't exactly reassuring, but he turned back to Freddy. "OK. Let's get this over with."

Freddy looked a little startled but immediately put up his fists and started dancing around a little. The crowd started to cheer. Danny just looked at him.

"What's the matter, Danny? Scared?" Freddy taunted.

This time Danny did roll his eyes. "I said get it over with," he answered and when Freddy lunged forwards, swinging wildly, he grinned. Except that quickly stopped when out of nowhere – really, Danny hadn't even seen him – Rusty stepped forwards and in front of him and the punch that was vaguely aimed at Danny's chest caught the side of Rusty's head.

There was silence. Freddy dropped his fists and took a step back. Rusty stumbled but didn't fall. Danny turned to look at him. There were several things he wanted to say, most of them some variation of the word 'idiot'. Instead he just stared for a long moment, until Rusty stood up straight and gave a half smile.

Danny shrugged and shook his head, and turned back to Freddy with a wide grin.

Freddy took another step backwards. "I didn't see him. It's not my fault."

Danny nodded thoughtfully. Then he drew back his fist and punched Freddy as hard as he could.

Clutching his nose, blood trickling out from between his fingers, Freddy staggered back. "I'm telling!" he said loudly, sounding on the brink of tears.

"That wouldn't be a good idea," Rusty said casually.

"In fact it would be a very bad idea," Danny agreed.

"I mean, fighting is still against the school rules, isn't it?" Rusty asked Danny.

"Definitely," Danny answered. "And teachers always get everyone involved in trouble, not just the winner."

"Not to mention he hit me – " Rusty added.

Danny nodded. " – And you're only a little kid – " he said sarcastically. Might as well take advantage of what they had.

" – Exactly." Rusty grinned.

"They call that bullying, normally," Danny smiled. Freddy looked pale. "Leave us alone," Danny told him sweetly and the boy scrambled away.

Rusty looked slightly surprised. "Well."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. They'd need to wait to see if that would be the end of it. Sooner or later people would get the point. They were together now and nothing was going to stop them.

* * *

Rusty faced his parents. His dad was brandishing a letter from the school, informing them that he'd lied to a fellow student about his home life. "I didn't tell. He guessed," he told them.

"First you bring that boy here, then you lie to him about us?" his dad snarled. "You stay away from him, you hear me, you little shit?"

He closed his eyes. "No."

The fist that slammed into his face almost knocked him over. But he'd been prepared for it, and he managed to keep his balance. "You do as I say."

And maybe it was bad, and maybe it was stupid, but he wasn't going to give up Danny. Not for anything. "I won't tell him anything," he said. His voice steady and he was surprised to realise that he was lying. "But he's my friend."

"Why would anyone want to be friends with a stupid bastard like you?" his dad asked, almost pleasantly

Rusty grinned. "No idea," he admitted, and wasn't at all surprised when fresh pain blossomed on his ear. He hadn't even seen that one coming. "But he is," he managed to say.

His dad stared at him, obviously puzzled. "Just leave him, Robert," his mom mumbled and to his surprise his dad did back off.

"Don't let me catch him around here. And if I even think that you've been telling lies again . . . " He left the threat dangling.

Rusty nodded. "I'll be good. I promise."

* * *

Danny faced his parents. "But I like it there," he told them. This was the earliest they'd ever started talking about taking him out of a school. And he wasn't going to stand for it.

His mother sighed. "You're falling under all sorts of bad influences. I think a fresh start – "

" – No," he interrupted. "Not going to happen."

She frowned. "You'll do what you're told."

Quickly Danny made a decision. "Look. I like it here. I'm making friends. I'm going to do better."

"What do you mean?" His dad sounded curious. Well, they'd never heard this before.

He looked them straight in the eyes and concentrated on sounding sincere. Because this was important. "I'm going to start working hard. I'm going to get good grades. Stop getting in trouble. No more fights. No more insolence." He bit his lip. "No more embarrassing you. If you let me stay." It was a good deal. He could put up with a lot, in order to stay. Putting on an act; it would be easy. And he'd get to stay with Rusty.

His parents exchanged a long look. "Well, perhaps a few more months and we'll see," his dad offered. His mom looked sceptical. Well, he'd show her.

He nodded. "I'll be good. I promise."

* * *

Danny was sitting on the edge of the fountain when Rusty arrived. They looked at each other for a long moment, reading pain and misery and determination and for a second the future stretched out in front of them, clear as anything.

"Ready to have some fun?"

"Always."

A shared grin, a shared thought, a shared plan and the world had never been so full of wonder. They could glimpse a far brighter life and it was worth any sacrifice.

* * *

**And that's the end of that. Hope you liked it. Next chapter I'll be back to writing out of chronological order.**


	17. Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words

**Been quite a while since I updated this. As the song says, it was always on my mind. **

**Timeline again.**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**4. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**5. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**6. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**7. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**8. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**9. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**10. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**12. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**13. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**14. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

By the time they arrived the fair was in full swing, full of gaudy lights, excited people and tinny music. Looked like fun. They'd meant to get here early, but Rusty had let him sleep in. In the last few days his parents had somehow got louder and seemed to have given up on needing sleep. As long as they were hurting each other that seemed to be enough, and they'd pretty much forgotten he existed. Not that he necessarily objected to the lack of ideas such as 'bedtime', or 'curfew' or 'homework', but when concepts like 'dinner' and 'good morning' and 'silence' went out the window, he chose to run to Rusty's and stay there for a bit. Which was fine, for once. Rusty's dad had got a new job and had left Rusty with a couple of dollars, a couple of bruises, and a promise that he'd be on the road till next week. And that was fantastic, and they'd stayed up roasting marshmallows over a candle, and Rusty had tried to show him that shuffling trick he'd taught himself to do, only Danny had completely failed to get the hang of it, and the deck had pretty much exploded, showering cards all over the room, and they'd laughed and there'd been no yelling and no reason to be scared and it had been perfect.

But they had meant to get there early in order to look around properly, and now there were people everywhere. They had to stop sharply to avoid walking into a boy – maybe two or three years older than Danny, tall and dressed tough – and his mother, who was wiping at his face with a handkerchief. "Now, Sam, I don't see your friends anywhere about. Are you sure you're going to be all right on your own?"

"I'm fine, mom. I told you. I'm meeting the guys inside." He sounded embarrassed, and it occurred to Danny that he'd probably arranged to meet his friends inside to avoid them meeting his mother. He caught Rusty's eye, and they shared the thought that at least they never needed to worry about being publicly humiliated by their parents.

The mother kept talking. "Don't eat too much candy. And don't go on the fast rides, you know they make you sick."

Danny bit his lip. Rusty's shoulders shook. The boy noticed them looking and reddened threateningly. They quickly walked round the pair and headed inside the fairground.

They stood for a long moment, looking round, and Danny could feel himself smiling. Sights and sounds and opportunities, awash in the blazing sunshine. And them with the football team's money in their pockets. "What do you want to do first?" he asked, but when he glanced over, Rusty's eyes were already fixed on the nearest hotdog stand.

"Mustard and ketchup and onions," he replied dreamily.

Danny blinked. "It's eleven in the morning."

Rusty just looked at him.

"We just had breakfast," he pointed out.

"It was just cold cereal," Rusty answered. "That doesn't count."

"You practically live on cereal," Danny sighed, but he willingly followed Rusty over and joined the queue. "We're just going to be eating all day, aren't we?"

Rusty shook his head. "There's also rides, remember?" He looked past Danny, and up, and Danny turned and saw the very top of a frighteningly rickety looking rollercoaster.

"No," he said firmly. "Not a chance."

"You'll enjoy it," Rusty assured him.

"Rus', it looks like it'd fall apart if you breathed on it."

Rusty shrugged. "Don't breathe," he suggested. They reached the front of the queue and Rusty smiled up at the man. "Two hotdogs, please."

Danny actually opened his mouth to protest that he wasn't hungry, before he realised and shut up. Rusty shot him an amused glance and gave him one hotdog to hold while he lathered the other in ketchup and mustard.

"That is disgusting." Danny said with feeling.

Rusty nodded. "But delicious," he added, as he handed the sauce-smothered hotdog to Danny while he prepared to do the same to the next one.

It all happened fast, but Danny was almost certain that it hadn't been deliberate on Rusty's part. Not that he wouldn't have. Just that he probably hadn't. An arm came reaching over Rusty's shoulder, and an annoyed voice – "Stop hogging the mustard, kid," and Danny saw Rusty tense up, and he saw him not flinch, and he saw him let go of the mustard, but not quite in time, and he watched as an arc of sunshine yellow goo flew through the air and deposited itself all over the boy's shirt. The same boy from outside, actually. Sam, or something. Well. He'd wanted mustard.

Rusty turned round immediately, all awkward apologies and complete neutrality, amusement buried almost too far down for even Danny to see it. But Danny had never achieved quite that level of self-control; he laughed. Oh, he managed to choke it back almost immediately, but the look on the boy's face – that shell shocked expression – and there was even a glob of yellow sitting on top of his _hair_. How could he help it?

Sam's expression hardened, and he took a step towards them. Danny looked round and Rusty looked back at him and they came to an unspoken conclusion and ran as fast as possible.

They dodged past surprised gawkers, swung round the back of stalls, hurtled past queues and didn't stop until they were round behind the House of Illusion, out of breath and absolutely confident that they'd lost him. After all, together and individually, they'd shaken off far more persistent pursuers in their time.

Danny sat, trying to get his breath back, and watched companionably as Rusty finished his first hotdog, licked the remains of the ketchup from his fingers and started in on the plain one. He took one bite, grimaced and threw it away. "Not the same without mustard," he explained.

"You put too much on," Danny remarked.

Rusty shook his head seriously. "If you can taste the sausage, there's not enough mustard."

"You ever think about what goes in those things?" Danny wondered.

"Never while I'm eating them."

* * *

The House of Illusion was something of a disappointment. Not that Danny had any idea exactly what he'd been expecting, but something more than a few shape distorting mirrors, a couple of pictures where the eyes moved and a guy in a white sheet who leapt out and yelled "Boo!" In fact, they were just heading out, having exhausted all the possibilities that watching other kids pulling faces in the mirror had to offer, when they walked smack into Juliet Darcey, her daughter and goddaughter dragged along in her wake.

She smiled tightly at them. Well, at Danny. "Good morning, Daniel. How are you keeping?"

He smiled back at her. "Very well, thank you Mrs Darcey." Behind her back he could see Annette and Celeste nudging each other, pointing at him and giggling. Interesting.

"And your mother? I've not spoken to her in a while. How is she holding up?" Her eyes were narrowed eagerly.

"She's fine," he told her, keeping it short. Obviously that particular train wreck was the latest piece of gossip.

"And your father?" Again the eagerness.

"Also fine, thank you. I'll let them know you were asking after them." Them. Make it sound like he had a chance of being in the same room with the pair of them and being able to carry out a conversation.

Danny noticed the disappointment in her face. Most people probably wouldn't have. "That's good. Thank you." Her gaze swept over to Rusty and there was the usual vague spasm of disapproval. "But they're not with you? You're on your own?"

That was self-evident, he'd have thought. "We're meeting up with my uncle later," he lied.

She nodded and looked satisfied and disappointed again. Gossip must be slow right now. "And you've been in the same school for quite some time now and from what I hear, you've not caused too much trouble. Well done. Must be _such_ a relief to your poor parents, not to have to worry about you on top of everything else." She smiled at him. Sweet like cyanide. "Honestly, if one didn't know, one could almost think that you were . . . " She trailed off, mock apolo. Danny heard the end of the sentence anyway. 'One could almost think that you were a normal, respectable young man.'

He smiled at her and inwardly seethed. He hadn't had so much as a detention in two years, but just like his mom she'd take any excuse to bring up his less than spotless childhood. Things were different now. They didn't get caught. "Thank you," he said politely.

Rusty stepped up to his shoulder. "Danny? We said we'd meet your uncle at the bumper cars. We don't want to be late." On the surface his voice was filled with apology and sincerity. Beneath, Danny could hear concern and protective anger.

He nodded and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry Mrs. Darcey. We need to be going. I'll be sure to remember you to my mother." Though he'd far rather forget. He smiled dazzlingly at the girls. "Bye Annette. See you in school Celeste." They burst out into a fresh round of giggling and he and Rusty took advantage of the moment to slip away before Mrs Darcey had finished glaring at them.

As they walked away Rusty glanced back over his shoulder repeatedly, to Danny's amusement. "I don't think she's going to follow us," he pointed out.

"You never know." Rusty frowned darkly.

Danny nodded and let it go. "You want to – "

Rusty was already starting to smile. " – do something – "

" – More fun?" he finished and Rusty nodded.

They headed to where the excited screams were loudest.

* * *

The bumper cars had been fun, if a little difficult. Still, what they'd lacked in steering skills they'd made up for in teamwork and they'd been responsible for three pile-ups. Which he figured was a good thing, although reversing out afterwards had been tricky.

Now they were staring up at the roller coaster and Danny's heart was in his mouth. It really was pretty high. And he couldn't help but think that it was probably at least ten years old and was dismantled and rebuilt at least three times a month. He stole a sideways glance at Rusty. Wide-eyed and dripping ice-cream onto his fingers. He sighed; they were going to do this.

Rusty looked round. "We don't have to," he said simply.

"I'm not scared," Danny replied immediately.

Rusty looked slightly amused. "It's you and it's me. Who's to impress?"

No-one. And he wasn't. "Thought you were supposed to confront the things that scare you," he pointed out.

There was a pause. "What scares you most? In the world?" Rusty asked, entirely serious.

Danny looked at him and thought about one punch too many, and about the faded scars on Rusty's arm, and about the possibility that one morning he'd wake up and he'd be alone, and said nothing.

Rusty blinked and bit his lip and said nothing for a long moment. "Do you really want to confront that?"

"This isn't that," Danny pointed out bluntly and he turned and stared at the rollercoaster. Okay. So it didn't go that high. Not really. And it had stayed standing all this time. Probably it wouldn't fall down while they were on it.

"So you want to – "

" – definitely." He didn't want them to not do something for such a stupid reason.

Rusty studied him for a long, long moment and he met the gaze and didn't blink or turn away. Eventually they grinned at each other and strolled into the end of the queue.

"I hate waiting in line," Rusty complained lightly.

"Patience," Danny said with a smile.

"We have none," Rusty agreed.

The line in front of them got shorter and shorter. And as they got closer to the front the screams got louder, and they seemed to stop sounding excited and start sounding terrified.

"I'll hold your hand if you like," Rusty offered.

Danny didn't look at him. "Thanks. No."

The man took their money and waved them on. Danny found himself wishing that Rusty had been deemed too short. They found a seat around the middle of the train, and the man walked up and down, pulling bars down over them and Danny snuck a look sideway. Because heights weren't exactly his thing, but being trapped wasn't exactly Rusty's.

"I'm good," Rusty assured him immediately. "You?"

The ride started. "It'd be a problem if I said no, wouldn't it?"

It wasn't so bad. Just chugging its way to the top. And then the sky loomed over them and then the ground came rushing up to meet them and it was worse than flying and people were screaming and Rusty was laughing.

He turned round. "If I die, you're haunting me," he shouted.

"Probably." Rusty yelled back, grinning.

It came as a surprise when the ride ended and up wasn't quite where he thought it should be. He flopped down onto the ground. Rusty sat beside him. "Want to go again?"

He considered for a moment. Because there had been fear. And yet . . . "Definitely."

* * *

They'd been heading for the Ferris Wheel when they'd seen Sam at the front of the queue. What was more, he'd seen them and he'd scowled and started towards them, before the group of friends he was with bundled him on to the ride. By common consent they'd moved away from the rides for a bit. Just until the kid forgot he'd seen them.

Instead they were investigating the possibilities that lunch had to offer, and unsurprisingly the moment they'd stepped among the food stalls, he'd completely lost track of Rusty. He settled down on a patch of open grass and picked at his fried chicken. He could wait.

Ten minutes later Rusty appeared, flushed and happy and holding a large carton of french fries and a . . .

"What is that?" He had to ask. He just had to.

"Pie on a stick!" Rusty explained cheerfully.

Danny blinked. "What?"

"It's pie. But it's on a stick!" He took a bite. "Cherry," he added helpfully.

"Huh." Danny contemplated the pie on a stick before turning to look at his own food with a slight feeling of dissatisfaction.

Rusty's eyes lit up. "Is that fried chicken? Can I have some?"

Danny looked at him thoughtfully and slid the carton over. "Would I ever say no?"

"Probably wouldn't be pretty if you did," Rusty agreed and handed him the pie on a stick.

He managed to stop grinning long enough to take a bite. It was nice. "Not as good as Mabel's."

"But on a stick," Rusty answered immediately and it was obvious that he felt as though Danny was missing the point somewhat.

They finished their food in silence. Danny even managed to steal a couple of fries.

"Hey, Danny?" Rusty said lazily. "I think they've got spaghetti and meatballs on a stick."

Danny frowned. "Since when did you – "

" – I don't. But it's on a stick."

"Okay." He kind of wanted to see that for himself anyway.

* * *

The hoopla game was rigged. That was completely obvious from the start. And yet it still didn't stop them spending nearly three dollars trying to win the digital watch. Danny managed to get the ring just on the edge a couple of times. Rusty knocked over the vase next to the watch. That was the point when they decided that they were throwing their money away. And fairly badly at that.

"Our talents lie elsewhere," Rusty mused, leaning back against the counter as Danny tried his luck at the shooting range.

"The angle was impossible," Danny pointed out, missing five ducks in a row. This was slightly embarrassing.

"Yeah, but if the game's rigged then you need to cheat, right?" Rusty looked round and watched carefully as Danny missed the next set of ducks. He grinned and put another couple of quarters down. "Like if the gun sight is squint, you stop trying to hit the ducks dead centre and aim . . ." He frowned thoughtfully. "Two inches to the right."

The stall owner glared at them. Danny looked at Rusty for a moment. Then he picked up the gun and tried again. Five shots, three ducks. Oh, that was more like it. He grinned as the stall owner scowled and sourly handed him a large plushy rabbit.

"Little scary," Rusty commented as they walked away. "It's cross-eyed."

"It's trying to see you coming from both sides. So it can work it's evil," Danny said solemnly.

Rusty appeared to give this all due consideration. "The cuddly toy is evil?"

"Aren't they all?" Danny frowned suddenly. "What am I going to do with a two foot long rabbit?"

"Don't you like it?" Rusty asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Danny just looked at him. "Think I outgrew cuddly toys a while back, Rus'. Mom gave mine to the Goodwill a couple of years ago."

"I had a teddy bear once. Mom set fire to it when I was five." Rusty was laughing. Danny couldn't quite see the funny. Rusty obviously noticed him looking and shrugged impatiently. "Anyway, the point is that you've won it. Doesn't matter what you do with it after that." He suddenly looked past Danny. "Why don't you give it away?"

Danny followed his gaze and saw Annette and Celeste. Standing on their own, admiring a display of gaudy costume jewellery. Oh. Right. "I'll just – " he began.

Rusty nodded. " – I'm going to go get some cotton candy. See you later."

With a couple of deep breaths (which had nothing to do with nervousness. Nothing at all.) he sauntered up behind the girls. "Lost your chaperone?"

They jumped and spun round and giggled. It was surprisingly co-ordinated. "Hi, Danny," Annette said shyly.

Celeste's attention was immediately drawn to the rabbit. "Oh! Did you win that?" Her voice was admiring and Danny felt himself smiling.

"Uh huh. Do you like it?"

"She's gorgeous." She? Why was the rabbit a girl?

"Then it's yours." He handed it over with a flourish and watched her blush and coo over it.

"Thank you, Danny," she smiled broadly at him and Annette giggled.

"Where is Mrs. Darcey, anyway?" he asked. Because he really didn't want to risk her suddenly appearing behind him.

"She had to stop for a rest and a cup of tea, and she wanted to talk to Mrs. Williams about Mr. Williams' secretary," Annette explained, and Danny could tell that she didn't really understand what she was saying. Which was good. "She won't notice we've gone for at least another ten minutes."

"Time for me to buy you two an ice-cream then?" he suggested.

They giggled. Again.

* * *

He cut off Rusty's apologies with a look before they'd even begun. Partly because it really didn't bother him, partly because it hadn't especially been Rusty's fault, but mostly because when Rusty was struggling so hard not to laugh, he kind of doubted the sincerity.

Pulling a fistful of cotton candy off his shirt, he sighed. Should have seen this coming. Cotton candy? Fine. Ride called the Revolutioniser? Great. Both of them together? Really, really not clever. But Annette and Celeste had been so awestruck in their descriptions, and when they'd said that Mrs. Darcey hadn't let them go on, how could Danny resist? They'd headed back to the refreshment tent, and Danny had run to find Rusty and dragged him to find the ride. And they'd seen it, and it had looked so awesome, and they hadn't even given a thought to the cotton candy Rusty was still clutching. But as soon as the spinning-upside down fun had started, it had flown off the stick. All over Danny.

"I'm – " Rusty began again.

Danny shook his head. " – don't. I'm going to go and get cleaned up."

Rusty nodded and took a bite out of the cotton candy he had left. Danny sighed again and headed off to find the restroom block.

He managed to get most of the stickiness out eventually. Well, some of it. Enough that he didn't feel like a complete idiot. But when he got back to where he'd left Rusty, Rusty was nowhere to be seen. And that was odd.

Ten minutes of methodical searching and he was getting worried. And then he turned a corner and saw Sam and saw his four friends, and saw that they had Rusty surrounded, pinned against the wall, and worried became frantic.

He crept closer, thinking desperately.

"Gonna teach you to laugh at me, you little shit," Sam's voice was harsh and Danny was close enough now to see the blankness in Rusty's eyes and hate it.

And yet Rusty's voice was still amused and didn't tremble. "Don't need any help with that, thanks. You make it easy."

Sam's hand flew back and Danny was never going to stand and watch that happen. "What do you think you're doing, boy?" he bellowed, and he made his voice deeper and older, and he put every last inch of four years of righteous fury into it.

It worked; the boys sprang back and whirled round to face him, but he only waited until Rusty – who was always going to be able to recover faster than those idiots – squirmed past them before they both started running.

"Thanks!" Rusty yelled across to him, as they dodged through the crowds, thundering footsteps and angry shouts sounding mere feet behind them, and Danny couldn't help but think that this was how they'd started the day.

He just looked at Rusty, with an expression designed to convey just how ridiculous – and insulting - it was to be thanked for that kind of thing. "How'd they – "

" – they were looking."

Danny considered this, and kept running. "Guess – "

" – all the fun of the fair – " Rusty agreed.

" – just not enough," Danny concluded.

"Sad," Rusty nodded, and they dodged between a couple of stalls, leapt through a pile of cardboard boxes and severely vexed a woman holding a chicken.

They paused for breath; they couldn't see the boys, but they could still hear them and Danny looked round desperately for a hiding place. "In here," he said finally, and dragged Rusty into a photo booth.

Breathing hard they huddled together on the bench for a few minutes, before Rusty dropped a quarter into the mechanism and turned to Danny with a serious expression. "Got a comb?"

Danny started laughing, and Rusty grinned back and the flashes took them by surprise.

"Why don't people ever seem to like us?" Danny complained, lightly.

"Most people love us," Rusty pointed out. "Guess he didn't think that mustard went with that shirt."

Danny grinned and listened hard. Nothing. But still.

"Few more minutes," Rusty agreed.

"Want to go back and try and get that watch?" Danny suggested.

Rusty frowned. "Good money after bad?"

Danny held up a wallet. "Since Sam's paying . . . "

Rusty held up a different wallet. "His friend made a contribution too."

Perfect. They'd been running short on funds. He pulled the curtain back and looked round cautiously. No sign. Rusty followed him out, and Danny stared back at the machine as it dispensed the little strip of photos, half tempted, half reluctant. Because he kind of wanted them, but he knew he shouldn't. He was thirteen; he wasn't supposed to be soppy.

Rusty stopped and turned back with a frown. He blinked when he realised what Danny was looking at. "Oh yeah." Carefully he folded the strip of photos and put them away in his pocket and Danny felt a tiny stab of disappointment.

* * *

They noticed the crowd around the stall and the man with the cards as they were heading back to the hoopla stand, and they stopped to watch. Find the Lady, and he could tell Rusty was entranced. They watched the man shuffle the deck, watched him lay out the cards, watched as time after time people picked the wrong one. And Danny watched Rusty and he saw the intensity and the concentration and the learning, and he idly thought that the next time his Uncle Ed came over the man was going to get fleeced.

Of course, Danny was more than a little alarmed when Rusty stepped forwards, slipped into his wide-eyed and precocious routine, and said "I know how you do that."

The dealer paused and looked at Rusty, and Danny could see the measurement and the calculation. "There's no trick to it, boy."

"Yes there is," Rusty insisted, with just the hint of a lisp, and Danny could see the crowd smiling and listening to him. "It's a cheat." Not good. But everything in their private language said 'Keep out; I've got it covered', and if he didn't trust that he didn't have anything, so Danny stood and watched and worried.

"You're a smart one, aren't you?" The man's voice was amused. His eyes weren't. "Why don't you give it a try and we'll see what happens?"

Rusty nodded, and the crowd parted and let him put his money down. And Danny had been watching, and he could see that when the cards were laid out, when they were switched round, it was different than before. He couldn't quite see how, but there was some subtle difference. Finally the man stopped. "So where do you think the Queen is, boy?" And he was staring straight at Rusty and there was both challenge and appreciation in the look.

Immediately Rusty tapped the card on the centre, and the man turned it over to reveal the Queen of Hearts. The crowd sighed, contentedly.

"See? No trick," the man said loudly. "Anyone can win, if their eyes are quick, right boy?"

"Right," Rusty lied with a grin in his voice.

"And here's your prize!" The man shoved a plastic bag into Rusty's hand and Danny almost choked. "Step right up! So easy a child can win!"

Danny waited until Rusty walked back over before he fixed him with a steady stare. "And now we have a goldfish," he stated.

Rusty looked down at the little fish, swimming contentedly in the plastic bag. "You think I didn't think this through, don't you?"

"It's a fish," Danny pointed out. Because it might be obvious, but there was no harm in cutting to the root of the problem.

"I think he's cute," Rusty held the bag up in front of his face. "See? He's looking at me."

"It's a fish," Danny repeated. "What are you going to do with it?"

Rusty ignored him, more or less. "We'll need a fishbowl. I wonder if I can train him to come when he's called?"

"No. You can't Because it's a fish." Danny could be patient.

"Think I'm going to call him Captain Flash," Rusty said thoughtfully.

Capt . . . Danny blinked. "Okay. New rule. You don't get to name anything, ever."

"We're not really good at sticking to rules," Rusty pointed out.

"Rus'" And this time Danny's voice was gentle. "You can't keep him at your place."

"I know that," Rusty said, after barely a fraction of a second's pause. "He wouldn't be safe."

"And my parents have always said no pets," Danny added.

"He's just a fish," Rusty said quietly. "Maybe they wouldn't notice?"

Maybe. And he couldn't say no. Not really. "We'll give it a shot," he promised and Rusty turned round and smiled at him happily.

And that was when Sam stepped up behind them and, with a laugh, knocked the plastic bag out of Rusty's hand. Water and fish spilled everywhere and they stared down in horror as Captain Flash stopped flopping.

Danny looked over at Rusty, words of commiseration and comfort on his lips, along with the word 'run', but he saw Rusty's expression shift from the neutrality of shock and anger to the neutrality of plotting, and he'd been looking at something just over Danny's shoulder. He risked a quick look behind him and his eyes widened in brief recognition before he turned back to Rusty and signalled his agreement.

"He killed my fish!" Rusty said, loudly and clearly on the brink of tears. Everyone in the vicinity immediately stopped and looked round at them, and they – and Sam and his friends – found themselves in the centre of a widening circle. "He did it deliberately! Captain Flash was _my_ fish and he killed him."

Sam laughed and looked round at his friends. "Look at the little baby, crying over a dead goldfish," he crowed, and Danny had the satisfaction of watching him pale as his mother stepped out of the crowd.

"Samuel Archibald Harrison, I'm ashamed of you!" And while no-one was looking, Danny took the opportunity to turn round to Rusty and mouth 'Archibald?' and see the answering echo of amusement. "You apologise to this child immediately, do you hear me? I didn't raise you to be a bully."

"Sorry," Sam muttered, looking anything but. Rusty carried on sniffling, his bottom lip wobbling, and the crowd's sympathies were very much on his side. And that was Danny's cue.

He threw a comforting arm around Rusty's shoulder, and he glared at Sam. "Don't mention it," he bit off, and then he turned to Sam's mother. "Sorry. He's been a bit emotional ever since . . . " he trailed off, and patted Rusty's arm, and grimaced in true embarrassed-older-brother fashion.

Sympathy and understanding flooded her face, and he wondered idly exactly what traumatic story she was using to fill in the blanks. "Oh, dear," she breathed.

Not quite enough. Rusty turned a woebegone look up at Danny. "He killed my fish." And his voice cracked, just a little.

"There, there," Danny comforted, and the crowd tutted disapprovingly, and as one they glared at Sam.

"Oh, dear," Sam's mother said again, and she reached for her purse and pulled out ten dollars. "Here." They made no move to take it. "Please. Think of it as my son's allowance for the next couple of months. Buy a new fish . . . or something. Let me make amends. _Please_."

Hesitantly Danny reached out and took the money. "Thank you, ma'am," he said sincerely, and it wasn't exactly a con after all.

She turned her attention to her son. "Just wait till I get you home." Sam shuffled his feet and hung his head and she looked past him towards his friends. "And don't think your parents won't be hearing about this."

Danny looked at Rusty and they quietly vanished into the ground.

"I'm sorry about Captain Flash," Danny said after a moment.

Rusty shrugged. "It was a fish," he said unwillingly. "We couldn't have kept the stupid thing anyway."

Danny reached out and squeezed his arm, and Rusty walked a step closer and they didn't need to say anything.

"Want a hotdog?" Danny suggested, noticing the stall that they'd been at that morning.

"Sure." Rusty didn't sound particularly enthusiastic and Danny winced.

Still he walked up and he asked for two hotdogs, and he opened his wallet and he froze. Because there was something in his wallet that shouldn't be there. Something that hadn't been there earlier. Something that he hadn't put there. With trembling fingers he pulled out the little strip of photos. Two children _(and he wondered if he always looked that young, and he knew that Rusty never did.)_ hunched together on the narrow bench. Sticky with cotton candy. Giddy with laughter. Bright. Happy. Shining.

He looked round immediately, ignoring the hotdog vendor trying to get his attention, and he knew his face was asking the question, but Rusty just shrugged and wouldn't meet his eyes. And a thousand words bubbled up inside him; about friendship, and family, and love and forever; but Rusty looked away and Danny felt the moment slip away, frustrated.

But when they sat on the grass, eating their hotdogs, idly watching the people go by, Danny casually brushed his arm against Rusty's, and Rusty turned round and smiled at him, bright like the sun, and Danny thought that maybe there were other ways of saying thank you. _(other ways of saying 'I love you.') _

* * *

**This chapter did not go where it was supposed to. But I actually like where it did go. Hope you did too.**


	18. Six months of roses

**For InSilva. And just because maybe it always is doesn't mean I don't still mean it.**

**Please note - as you may be able to tell from the title, this chapter lasts six months. And at the moment 'Life Lessons' (the sports day thing) takes place during this chapter. Later, there may be others. I'll let you know.**

**Oh, and thanks to InSilva for the French. But all mistakes are my fault, for dropping the subject as soon as I could, a hundred years ago, when I was in school. **

**Timeline again.**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**4. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**5. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**6. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**7. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**8. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**9. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**10. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**12. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**13. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**14. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**15. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

The thing was, he really never did lie to her, not even at the very end, when he stood in front of her, awkward and uncomfortable, with the fear of the night before still clinging to him, and the endless determination still newly singing in his veins, and the blood still staining his shirt. She'd asked and he didn't answer and she asked again and he told the truth and walked away.

Later, Rusty told him he'd made the wrong choice. Danny couldn't see what else he could have done. Not without losing something more important. Not without losing himself.

* * *

They shared two classes together; they'd been in the same school for six years; he knew they'd talked, from time to time; and yet somehow Danny really never noticed her until one rainy Tuesday morning in French class, shortly after he handed in the perfect homework that Rusty had done for him and shortly before he managed to spectacularly fail a pop quiz. Which wasn't altogether his fault. Because listening to a monologue on the joys of bowling was every bit as dull in French as it was in English and somehow he just wasn't able to keep his mind on it long enough to actually hear the answers to the questions.

So he'd been staring aimlessly into space, considering pointlessly again whether it might be easier to just go in through the skylight – pointless, because Rusty was already three days into the scheme to get the alarm code, and after all they really hadn't been able to find out anything about the layout of the attic - and he realised he was staring at Patricia. At her left hand as it twisted repeatedly through her short brown hair, at the dimples in her cheek that were so obvious when she smiled, and at the smirk in her eyes, half-hidden as she whispered animatedly to Gina next to her. And he realised she was beautiful, and he wondered how he'd never seen that before. He only fully realised that he was staring when Mr Dalcourt asked her a question and he realised with a start that she'd been paying about as much attention as he had.

She looked up with a frown. "Je ne sais pas, Monsieur Dalcourt."

Mr Dalcourt scowled lightly. "Pourquoi?" he demanded.

"Je regrette mais je ne faisais pas attention," she replied, and Danny loved that she didn't sound nervous. And he loved her accent. It made him think of Yvette, and that made him just a little nostalgic.

Mr Dalcourt scowled a little harder, but Danny could see just a hint of confusion, and an even smaller hint of amusement in his eyes. "Pourquoi?" he asked again.

Patricia shrugged. "Le bowling est ennuyeux."

Danny would swear that he actually heard Mr Dalcourt choke back a laugh. "La prochaine fois, sois attentive."

She smiled and nodded, and if Danny had been inclined to use the words lightly he might have considered that he loved her then, just a little.

Then, of course, Mr Dalcourt turned on him and there was rather less amusement to be had.

Merde.

* * *

For the next week he found himself watching her whenever he had a chance. And he didn't say anything – for once – but it came as no real surprise when he got to the canteen one lunchtime and discovered that Rusty was sitting two tables away from where Patricia was laughing with Gina and Lucy and Unity, and had saved him the seat with the perfect view.

Sitting down, Danny smiled at him.

Rusty grinned back. "I feel like I'm facilitating your stalking habit."

Danny watched as Rusty stole a handful of his fries and coated them in salt. "I feel like I'm facilitating your grease habit."

"If you don't know to get extra by now there's no hope for you," Rusty pointed out.

He nodded, because he did know and he hadn't even wanted fries today and his gaze slid over Rusty's shoulder and he watched as she lined up three water glasses and gestured intently at them with a fork, obviously in the midst of making some deep and obscure point. Then Lucy said something and she laughed and dropped the fork with a clatter and he realised that Rusty was looking at him in amusement.

"You could always ask her out," Rusty suggested.

Danny frowned. "Suppose she says no?" he asked.

Rusty sighed. "How many girls have you asked out?"

"A few," Danny answered, unwillingly.

Rusty stared at him.

"A lot," he admitted.

Nodding, satisfied, Rusty continued. "And how many have said no?"

"She's different," Danny said quietly, after a long moment. She was. He didn't know how and he didn't know why, but she was.

Rusty studied him carefully and then grinned. "Oh, boy."

"Glad you're entertained." Danny scowled but he didn't mean it.

"Of course," Rusty answered lightly. He paused. "There's this dance coming up. You could ask her to that."

"It's Sadie Hawkins," Danny pointed out.

"Oh." Rusty considered. "Maybe she'll ask you."

Danny's eyes widened. "What would I say?"

"Yes?" Rusty suggested.

Danny ignored him. "What do I say if someone else asks me first?"

"No?" Rusty suggested, straight-faced.

Danny scowled at him again. This time he meant it a little. "Such a stupid idea. Who invented it?"

"Al Capp," Rusty replied promptly.

Blinking, Danny turned to stare at him.

Rusty shrugged. "More or less," he added.

Danny shook his head and the conversation turned – half coded and half unspoken – to the problem of locating the wall safe.

* * *

If she'd asked, he'd have had to tell her it wasn't about her. Not even a little bit, not really. But she didn't.

Civics first thing on a Friday was never going to be counted among Danny's favourite ways to spend his time, but it was worse today. Because he was exhausted and he was angry and he was miserable. Rusty had come over the night before. Three o'clock in the morning and Rusty hadn't been able to stand up straight let alone even _think_ about climbing the tree. Danny had needed to sneak downstairs and let him in the front door. Fortunately his mom hadn't caught them, because that would have been bad. And Rusty had leaned heavily on him climbing up the stairs, and when he'd eased the horrible mint-green jumper off, he'd seen the varying shades of purple on Rusty's ribs and over his kidneys, and there had been anger, and ice-packs, and misery and painkillers and hopelessness, and there had been a sleepy, mumbled explanation about an accidentally slammed door and a broken chair leg, and there had been an apology that Danny would never understand, and later, when he was absolutely certain that Rusty was asleep, there had been tears.

It had been worse before. It would be worse again. And two weeks ago Danny had told the truth at yet another teacher, and it had taken so much smooth talking to avoid being sent to the school councillor.

This was what life was, and today Rusty had insisted that they both go into school, because they had missed enough that he was afraid they'd get noticed, and after all, there was nothing on his _face_ so it didn't _matter._

Today Danny was exhausted, and he was sitting at the back of the room, his head resting on his arm, only vaguely listening to his classmates argue about the healthcare system. Timothy Edgecourt was tearing into Patricia, and normally that would have stirred up all his more chivalrous instincts. Normally. Not today.

She was frowning, and it was obvious that she knew she was losing. " - a universal, free healthcare system – "

" – is un-American," Timothy interrupted rudely and not for the first time. "People would grow to expect the government to pay for every little thing, costs would spiral and the service would get worse; honestly do you really trust the government to handle something that complex?"

"But more and more people can't afford insurance," she pointed out, and there was a catch of desperation in her voice.

"That's not the government's fault; that's their own fault. In this country everyone has the same opportunities, and if people are too stupid or too lazy to grasp them – and half the time, remember, we're talking about alcoholics and drug addicts and criminals and welfare scroungers, and maybe they deserve – "

" – to die?" someone interrupted quietly. Danny was surprised to realise it was him. He sat up straight. Everyone was looking at him. He wasn't exactly known for his participation in class debates. "And their kids? Do they deserve to die because their parents are . . . " He trailed off. '_Bastards_' he finished in his head.

Timothy rolled his eyes. "Honestly there's no need to be melodramatic here, Danny. Bringing up helpless little children." Not helpless. Never helpless. "And no-one is talking about anyone _dying_. There are free clinics and charity hospitals you know." His voice grew mocking. "For the poor little kiddies."

Danny nodded and wondered if Timothy had ever spent six hours sitting on the cold floor of one of those clinics, because the place was full of the maimed and the drunk and the only available seats were covered in vomit and everyone was too busy to clean it up. He wondered if Timothy had ever spent Thanksgiving fighting to keep his best friend conscious, terrified that he was going to die. He wondered if Timothy had any idea how the real world felt. "They do a good job," he allowed, because they had and they did, and later he'd gone and he'd left a huge bunch of flowers and half a ton of candy for the staff, because he'd been so damned thankful. "But it isn't enough."

"Oh?" Timothy raised an eyebrow. "So you think that it's right that hardworking citizens should have to pay extra taxes to support the underclass?"

"I think everyone should have the same opportunities," Danny answered. "And you're sixteen; you don't pay taxes." Timothy opened his mouth. Danny allowed himself a smile. "And according to the IRS, neither does your dad."

From that moment on it got personal and it got nasty and in the end Mr Fuller had to break the habit of a lifetime and actually get involved in his own subject.

Patricia stole glances at him for the rest of the lesson. She thought he'd done it for her. He hadn't. But when she approached him after class and asked him to the dance, he hadn't been able to bring himself to say no.

* * *

The dance was awful in nearly every way; but she was as near to perfect as made no odds.

The band was busy redefining terrible and they danced and laughed and took bets on whether the guitarist or the drummer would reach the end of the song first. The drummer won. Every time. Danny couldn't help but wonder if the guy had somewhere better to be.

The only thing to drink was lemonade so sweet it made Danny's teeth itch and Patricia giggled, and when they were sure no-one was looking, she produced half a bottle of dessert wine, and it tasted even worse than the lemonade, but they drank it and laughed at the faces they pulled.

They danced close to an extraordinarily bad version of 'Two out of three ain't bad' and Danny looked down at her, and her eyes were closed and her smile was beatific, and he wished that the moment would never end, and then Miss Acre stormed up to them and shrieked that boys and girls must be at least six inches apart at all times. And he watched Patricia blush and squeezed her hand, and then he turned to Miss Acre and he smiled and he talked and after a while she told them that they were only young once and to enjoy it. The band was still playing. So they did.

When the dance was over it was raining and they stood outside in a little nook until it eased off, and he lit her cigarette for her and draped his coat around her shoulders and he felt like Humphrey Bogart but she looked like Rita Hayworth.

He walked her home, and on her doorstep he kissed her goodnight. It was quick and chaste and gentle and he hadn't kissed a girl like that since he was fourteen. And he wouldn't change it for the world.

The next day they were a couple.

* * *

That week there were quick smiles in the corridors and stolen glances in class. A couple of times they ate lunch together and they talked about music and life and books and nothing, and actually separating when the bell rang for class was difficult.

At the weekend he took her to see 'Norma Rae' and she loved it, as he'd known she would. They sat in the ice-cream parlour afterwards, and he watched her swinging her legs and eating a banana split and he was so, so happy.

Out of nowhere she looked at him seriously. "You know, I hear a lot of rumours about you."

He hesitated. "Some of them are probably true," he admitted.

"They say you cheat at tests." She watched him. There was no disapproval in her eyes, but he still wondered.

"We don't," he explained. "But we help other people to cheat."

She nodded, and there was a thoughtful pause. "And they say that you get people out of detentions, and that you steal back things that have been stolen or confiscated, and that you get things that people need, like props for the drama society and equipment for the science club."

Huh. Put like that they almost sounded benevolent. "We have done all those things before," he said carefully. "But it's not exactly like it sounds. Most of the time people were paying us." And the times that they weren't, they were owed a favour, and that was good too.

She nodded again. "You know, to hear people talk, it sounds as if you can do _anything_."

"That's Rusty," he said, immediately and fondly. "He likes to add to the rumours."

She smiled unexpectedly. "I like that."

He blinked. "The rumours . . . ?"

She shook her head. "I like the way you smile when you say his name."

And before he could even think about coming to terms with that, she leaned forwards and kissed him, and it was slow and it was tender and it was lingering and somewhere in the middle there were fireworks.

The next day his mom was away and he invited her over to his house, and he introduced her to Rusty and he watched while they argued happily about the literary merits of Stephen King, and he thought no, _this _was happiness.

* * *

On their third date he took her to Mabel's. And he was nervous in a way that he couldn't explain. Of course she looked up the moment they walked in, and she smiled welcomingly. "Danny! Come in and sit down, sugar. And who is this charming young lady?"

He swallowed. "Mabel, this is Patricia Holmes. My girlfriend. Patricia, this is Mabel." He was aware of Patricia eying him curiously. He hadn't exactly explained anything before he'd taken her here. He hadn't exactly known how.

Mabel's smile grew wider. "So happy to meet you. Both of you, sit down." She ushered them over to a table. "Now, what can I get for you?"

"Coffee and a piece of pie, please Mabel. Pat?"

She smiled. "The same for me, thank you."

"Coming right up." She bustled off cheerfully.

Almost reluctantly Danny turned round to Patricia's questioning look. "We've been coming here . . . a long time. Since I was nine. Mabel's good to us. Good for us."

Patricia nodded slowly. "Your life's not a bed of roses, is it?" she asked quietly.

Danny shook his head tightly. She reached across the table and took his hand and she didn't ask anymore questions.

Mabel came back with the pie and the coffee and waved off Danny's attempts to actually pay with an air of good-natured irritation. "Oh! While I remember," She produced a five dollar bill. "Give this to your brother, will you? He was in here this morning. Fixed up the faucet in my bathroom. Did a real good job, too."

Danny nodded. "I'll see he gets it," he promised.

When Mabel had left them alone again, Patricia frowned. "Brother?" she asked in an undertone.

"Rusty." Danny explained, and he bit his lip and glanced away. "She knows we aren't . . . but she still says it, and it's not as if we mind. Suppose it's stupid."

There was a silence, and when he looked back round she was smiling at him and there was reassurance and compassion. "It's not stupid."

"Sometimes I wish . . . " Danny trailed off, because there were some things that he was never going to articulate.

She nodded and changed the subject. "How does Rusty know about plumbing, anyway?"

Danny shrugged and grinned. "Sometimes I think Rusty might just know about everything."

She laughed and they talked inconsequentialities for the rest of the day.

* * *

Danny lay on the bed, working on Rusty's literature homework while Rusty lay on the floor and worked on the hand-drawn plans of what they really had to stop calling the 'Sinatra house'.

"I'm going to have been going out with Patricia for a month next week," he said casually.

Rusty didn't look up. "Uh huh."

"Think she's expecting me to get her something?"

"No," Rusty answered immediately, and he frowned and rubbed an errant line out.

Danny considered that for a moment. "Think I _should_ get her something?" he asked.

And then Rusty did look up, and he looked at Danny as if he thought he was crazy. "Yeah."

"Oh." Danny thought for a long, long moment. "What?"

Rusty blinked. "I don't know," he said, hesitantly.

Danny sighed. This was longer than either of them had ever been out with a girl. And he wasn't exactly sure what was supposed to happen next.

* * *

He asked some of the guys in school the next day, while they were stretched out on the bleachers, relaxing in lieu of gym class. The answers came thick and fast and none of them were particularly helpful

"Chocolates!"

"Flowers!"

"A teddy bear, or something. Girls love 'em!"

"Come off it, Danny, we all know what you want to give her!"

The last was from Norris Carroll and accompanied by a snigger and a gesture, and Rusty lazily leaned up and muttered something near his ear and Norris stomped off sharply

Danny looked across at Rusty and shrugged. They'd need to keep thinking.

* * *

They asked Mabel that night, while she was hunting up some arnica cream for Rusty's cheek. She just looked at them and sighed. "I can't tell you that, honey. Every girl is different. What does she like?"

Danny shrugged helplessly. "Lots of things. But I want it to be something special, you know? Something personal."

She reached out and ruffled his hair, the way she did to Rusty sometimes. "You're a good boy. You'll figure it out."

And that was nice. But not helpful.

* * *

A couple of days later, when they delivered the complete, signed, Frank Sinatra LP collection, exactly as planned and exactly as ordered, Danny could see the grin long before it appeared on Rusty's face, and he mentally begged him not to ask.

It didn't work of course. "Hey, Leo?" And the grin was all in Danny's head, on the outside Rusty looked deadly earnest. "What sort of present should Danny buy his girlfriend?"

Leo held his hands up nervously. "Is this gonna lead to a talk about the birds and the bees? Cos if so, I'm calling Bobby."

"No!" Danny said immediate and horrified. "It's not important."

"It's a little important," Rusty argued, and he still wasn't smiling.

But Leo looked as if he was thinking. "Flowers? Chocolates? Lingerie . . . no, I guess not. Jewellery? Lotsa girls put out for jewellery . . . and don't tell Bobby I said that either."

Rusty lit a cigarette. "Last I heard it was only the drinking he'd banned."

Leo looked at him pointedly. "Last I heard he wasn't too keen on _that_, either."

Rusty shrugged and inhaled and said nothing. Danny grabbed the money off the table. "Thanks, Leo."

"Don't mention it," He looked down at the records. "Hey! Does she like Sinatra?"

They got outside. Danny was thinking. Rusty smiled. "We should have made him call Bobby."

Danny glared at him. "Think it's a little late for the birds and the bees, don't you?"

"It would have been _funny_," Rusty answered with a smirk. "And it would have given Bobby good practice for dealing with Linus."

"I am not willing to sacrifice that much dignity for your entertainment," Danny told him. "Get used to it."

Rusty smiled. "You're thinking about music?"

Danny nodded. "Meatloaf. We – "

" – danced to – ".

" – uh huh."

"Perfect."

"You think?"

Rusty considered some more and nodded.

It was. He got her the record, and he got her 31 roses; one for each day they'd been together, and she'd hugged him like she never wanted to let go.

* * *

She said that he needed to meet her family and he supposed that since – in every way that mattered – she'd already met his, that made sense. Didn't mean he wasn't terrified. He wore a suit and a tie and he spent longer fixing his hair than he ever had before and he still didn't feel like he was smart enough.

Patricia laughed at him as he begged for just a second to check his reflection in the glass of her front door. "They'll love you, Danny. You can make anyone like you, remember?"

"Doesn't work on families," he muttered darkly and immediately regretted it when her smile vanished. "Sorry, Pat, I'm just a little on edge."

She nodded and forgave him. "Come and meet everyone," she instructed.

There were so _many _of them. Patricia had two brothers and a sister, and a grandfather who lived with them, and a grandmother and two aunts and an uncle who had just come over to take a look at Danny, and he was so glad that he didn't make a habit of forgetting names. And they were all so loud and there was laughter and teasing, and even round the dinner table her brothers were pushing and shoving each other, and her sister was insisting on showing everyone the clay pot she'd made in school, and everyone was friendly and everyone was _nice_, even when they were busy interrogating Danny, and he just didn't know what to make of it.

"So, Danny. You play football at all?" Patricia's father asked, and Danny had seen the hopeful look in his eye and had prepared himself to lie before he had caught sight of Patricia, shaking her head ever so slightly across the table.

He cleared his throat. "No, Mr Holmes. I'm afraid I've never really been into it."

He looked disappointed and the subject was changed, but Danny hadn't lied.

Later, Mr Holmes was talking to the uncle, who Danny had been a little disconcerted to realise was a cop, and they were discussing the recent outbreak of liquor store robberies, and the uncle had said something offhanded about rounding up the usual suspects and before he could stop himself Danny muttered "Realizing the importance of the case, my men are rounding up twice the usual number of suspects."

Patricia's dad had smiled approvingly. "Bogart fan, huh?"

"Yes," he shrugged. "Sorry."

"I didn't think kids today liked the old movies. Have you seen the 'The Maltese Falcon'?"

Danny grinned; it had been on TV the other week. They'd stayed up till an ungodly hour waiting to hear the man say 'The stuff dreams are made of.'

The rest of the night passed in a haze of old film references and trivia. It was _fun_ and Patricia was smiling at him all the while.

A few days later, he watched as Rusty picked the lock on the door of the bakery, and he found himself asking hesitantly, "Do you ever think we're missing out on something?"

Rusty turned round and looked at him seriously. "Wishing gets you nothing, Danny."

* * *

Summer came and lasted forever. There were endless dates, and picnics and trips to the cinema, or to get ice cream, or to Mabel's, and sometimes it was just him and Patricia, and sometimes Rusty was there too, and sometimes Rusty brought whichever girl had managed to temporarily attract his attention, and it was always sunny and it was always good.

And sometimes they lay on the grass and he and Rusty would scheme and plot, and Patricia would listen and roll her eyes and laugh, and it was all a game that she didn't mind.

They didn't have to lie about that. But sometimes Patricia asked about the bruises Rusty wore as a matter of course, and Danny bit his lip and said nothing and let Rusty spin whatever story he felt like. And Patricia would smile and nod and accept but sometimes Danny caught her looking, and he wondered what he'd do if she asked.

Thankfully he never found out.

* * *

There were nights too, and he and Patricia spent them alone, and before there'd been other girls and there'd been other nights but it had never been so good and he couldn't imagine why it couldn't last forever.

* * *

Eventually his mom got to hear that there was a girl in his life, and tight-lipped and insistent she extended what she'd describe as an invitation and Danny would describe as an ultimatum.

Patricia had been nervous. He'd told her about his dad, and she'd listened and understood, but they'd never really discussed his mom, and he'd have been happy to let it stay that way forever.

He'd tried to explain before, but she hadn't really understood and he'd winced at the expression on her face when his mom sneered at the CND pin on her coat, and the denim skirt with the roses on the hem that Danny thought she looked so beautiful in.

Dinner had been awkward and near-silent and Danny gave serious consideration to the idea that maybe his mom was just against him being loved on general principle.

Later he wrapped her in his arms and he promised her the world if only she'd stop crying, because it honestly couldn't matter less and she kissed him wildly and he realised she hadn't been crying because his mom had hurt _her. _

* * *

He came in after a late date to find Rusty sleeping face down on top of his bed.

"Wake up, Goldilocks," he said, reluctant to reach out and touch until he knew just where Rusty was hurt.

"I didn't get any porridge," Rusty mumbled into the pillow and he moved his arm out from under him and his hand was a solid mass of swollen purple and Danny couldn't help but gasp. The hand was immediately snatched away, hidden under the pillow, and Danny couldn't imagine how that was supposed to help.

"Rus' . . . " he began, knowing that the sentence would include 'hospital' and 'now'.

Rusty sat up and smoothed his hair down with his good hand and Danny saw the slight swelling around his eye. "I can still move all my fingers properly. Nothing's broken."

Danny looked sceptical and then immediately wished he hadn't, when Rusty raised his hand and wiggled each of his fingers in turn, gritting his teeth all the while.

"You – "

" – took my painkillers like a good boy, and I had it wrapped in a wet towel for an hour or so." Rusty shrugged, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "And there's nothing else worth mentioning. It's done. How was your date?"

Danny sat down next to him and gently started to check out the mangled hand. "Amazing," he said sincerely.

"That's what you always say," Rusty pointed out, a smile in his voice, as he let Danny run his fingers carefully over swollen knuckles.

"That's what it always is," Danny shrugged.

"Right," Rusty yawned and Danny decided that there probably wasn't anything broken. Still looked a mess though. And Danny could only imagine how much it hurt and he wished that - even just once - it could be him instead.

"Rus'?" he began, after a moment.

"Uh huh?"

"How do you know when you love someone?"

There was a long silence.

"You're asking me?" Rusty asked, finally and lightly.

"Who else have I got?" Danny sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

There was another long silence.

"I suppose," Rusty began eventually, and when Danny turned to look at him, he was staring at the floor. "I suppose it's when you would be happy to spend every minute of the rest of your life with them. When the very idea of them being unhappy makes you miserable. When you'd give everything you have to keep them safe and happy. When just the idea of them is enough to make you smile and to keep . . . to keep the bad things from hurting so much."

There was a lump in Danny's throat. Silently he reached out and ran a hand through Rusty's hair, and Rusty sighed and leaned in to the touch.

She was never further from his thoughts.

* * *

One starry night they drove out of town together. Danny had picked her up at her front door, and she'd stared at the Chevy, deeply impressed, and then she'd made him promise that afterwards he'd put it back _exactly_ where he'd found it with a full tank of gas.

He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as she sang along to the radio and beat out time on the glove box and she was wonderfully alive.

They parked by the edge of the river and made love beneath the stars and afterwards, as they stared upwards, she told him the names of the constellations, and she didn't even laugh _too_ much when the frog brushed against his foot and he scrambled back towards the car.

And she stood up, naked and beautiful and free in the moonlight, and the words were on the tip of his tongue. But somehow he just didn't say them.

* * *

On the morning after the phone rang and rang and didn't stop.

And eventually he realised that he was going to have to do something about that.

He opened his eyes and looked at Rusty. Still asleep, curled on top of Danny's arm, his head burrowed against Danny's shoulder as though that could somehow make it all better. Which it couldn't. But it did help. He reached over with his free hand and brushed Rusty's hair out of his face, frowning at the realisation that it was still matted with dried blood. Well. Neither of them had exactly been in a fit state to get cleaned up last night.

Gently – very, very gently – he eased his arm out from under Rusty, and winced when he heard the quiet moan, and cringed when a pair of pain-filled blue eyes stared up at him.

"I need to go and answer the phone," he said softly. "Go back to sleep."

Rusty stared at him for a second longer, then he nodded and closed his eyes.

Carefully Danny opened the door and looked round. Thankfully though, there was no sign of his mom – which made sense, if she was in _she'd_ probably have answered the phone – so he headed downstairs and grabbed the handset.

"Hello?"

Patricia's voice was loud and frantic. "Danny? Oh, thank god. I've been ringing and ringing, but your mom just hung up on me, and then there was no answer. Uncle Davie said you were arrested last night? What happened? Are you all right?"

Danny blinked. He'd forgotten. Everything that had happened, and he'd forgotten her. He tried to be reassuring. Tried to say 'I'm fine.' But the words wouldn't come. "They let us go," he said instead, stupidly, because if they hadn't, how could they be talking now?

"I know that." And there was impatience and concern and fear in her voice. "But are you all right?"

The lie still wouldn't form. The silence stretched on for far too long. "We need to talk," he said at last.

For a long moment she said nothing, and he wondered if she knew what was coming. "There's no-one at mine right now," she said eventually. "Come on over."

"Okay." He nodded, not even caring that she couldn't see him. "I'll . . . I'll see you soon." And he hung up.

He stood, for a time, with the receiver resting against his forehead, and he wished he'd said something else. Something better.

There was juice in the fridge and he took a glass of it upstairs and pressed it into Rusty's hands along with a couple of painkillers.

"I need to go out for a bit," he said, reluctantly.

Rusty swallowed the pills and nodded and said nothing, and Danny felt the stab of an old fear.

He licked his lips. "Rus' . . . ?"

There was a frown and a sudden flash of realisation and Rusty shook his head quickly and smiled reassuringly. "'s okay," he said and Danny didn't know what he meant, because none of it was even remotely okay. But at least there were words.

"I won't be long," he promised, and he squeezed Rusty's hand tightly.

Rusty's voice stopped him on his way to the door. "Patricia?" They hadn't discussed it, but he wasn't surprised.

He nodded, but he didn't turn round.

"Danny. Think about it." Rusty's voice was pleading. But Danny didn't need to think. He'd decided.

* * *

When she let him in he realised she'd been crying and he had to fight back the guilt and he had to fight back the apologies.

They went through to the living room and though she invited him to sit, he stood, awkward and uncomfortable, in the middle of memories of happier times.

They stared at each other, and he knew she knew what this was, and he knew she didn't understand why and he didn't think he could explain.

She kissed him, desperately, passionately, and for a few moments he let her, and he found himself so close to just abandoning himself to everything safe and normal and wonderful.

He stepped back and didn't cry.

"I can't," he told her.

Her face was filled with misery. "_Why_?" she demanded. "Danny, why?"

"Everything changed last night," He swallowed hard. "Things are bad, Pat, maybe worse than they've ever been, and I can't . . . " He shook his head and there were a thousand things he couldn't say. "I can't be what you deserve."

He could see she didn't understand. She stared at him, and her eyes widened. "Is that blood?"

It was. This was still the shirt he'd been wearing last night. He glanced down at the stains on his sleeve. "It's not mine," he said, with a slight shrug. It never was, after all. "Things are bad," he repeated.

"Let me help you," she pleaded. "Let me in, Danny. Things can't be so bad that I can't help."

He shook his head firmly and replaced compassion with brutality. "Things have changed. We're going to need to work hard. It's not going to be . . you deserve someone who's going to be there for you. And I don't need the distraction." He watched her face crumple and he hated himself. And he'd told the truth, but the other truth, the deeper, truth was that all of this could go so wrong so quickly, and he wasn't going to drag her down with them.

"Danny, _please_," she whispered.

He looked away and spoke quickly. "The last six months I've been so happy. And I never wanted it to end. But it has, and I'm _sorry_. I'm so, so sorry."

"I thought . . . I was sure. . ." Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "Don't you love me?"

He didn't – couldn't – answer.

"Danny?" She looked at him pleadingly. "Tell me you love me?"

He closed his eyes and told the truth. "I don't love you enough."

As he walked away he heard her crying.

* * *

Later Rusty told him he'd made the wrong choice. Rusty didn't know everything.

* * *

**Hope that you enjoyed that. And yes. I know there were a lot of things referenced that haven't been dealt with yet. Either I know what I'm doing or I've bet my life savings while holding Ace high, plus Mr Bun the Baker. You decide.**

**Oh, and approximate French translation would be **

**"I don't know"**

**"Why?"**

**"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."  
**

**"Why?"**

"**Bowling is boring."**

**"Next time, pay attention." **


	19. If the fates allow

**AN: Regular readers may notice that it's been a while. Not just for this story. What can I say? Last month or so I've not been feeling very creative.**

**AN2: Title of this is from a song. Yes, yes, yes, I can never think of my own titles, leave me alone. 'Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas'. By many, many people. But the version that is in my mind with this is the one that goes 'Someday soon we all will be together/If the fates allow/Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow' Yes, it's more depressing. I don't care, it still makes more sense than 'hang a shining star upon the highest bough'. Anyway, the original song included 'Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas/It may be your last/Next year we may all be living in the past.' Apparently that was too depressing for Judy Garland, and I can't honestly blame her. Though still pissed off at Sinatra for the 'highest bough' thing. **

**AN3: Look. You know it's for you. Naturally. Happy Christmas, mate. And the amazement and the amusement just doesn't fade, and I never take for granted. Even if there are numeracy issues. **

**Now! Timeline!**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**4. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**5. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**6. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**7. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**8. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**9. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**10. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**12. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**13. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**14. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**15. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**16. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

The snow was crisp, deep and just plain cold and Danny considered himself well out of it. Which was why he was hanging back in the doorway, with the central heating on full blast behind him, watching Rusty struggle up the driveway.

The look he got when Rusty finally made it inside would probably have been a lot more effective if Rusty hadn't hidden himself under quite so many layers.

"Cold outside," Danny commented, by way of explanation.

"Yeah. I noticed." Rusty's voice was muffled and he turned his back on Danny and pulled off his coat, and a scarf. Danny watched, fascinated as he realised that there were another two scarves underneath. "Your mom left okay?"

"Uh huh." He'd spent most of the morning eavesdropping on her talking on the phone, desperate to find out if her flight had been cancelled, or if Tom had changed his mind. "We're all alone till New Year."

Rusty unwound the other scarves and pulled off his gloves. "Good." He must have sensed Danny watching. "It's _cold."_

"Right," Danny agreed and reached to the table behind him.

"If you were any sort of friend you'd have - " He turned round, and Danny smiled and pressed the mug of hot chocolate he'd had ready into his hands. " - done that," Rusty finished.

"I did."

Rusty looked at the drink thoughtfully. "Cream, marshmallows and sprinkles?" he asked hopefully.

"And a flake as well," Danny nodded. "You're going to be dead by the time you're twenty."

Closing his eyes, Rusty took a drink. "Oh, that's better," he said. "And chocolate never hurt anyone." He laid the mug down, pulled off his hat and shook the damp out of his hair, and Danny swore softly and reached out a gentle hand to the cut on Rusty's forehead and the multicoloured bruise on Rusty's cheek. Rusty smiled. "Least in this weather it comes ready iced."

"Just once, he couldn't leave you alone?" he asked, savagely.

"He caught me when I was leaving. Wanted to know where I was going," Rusty shrugged, and he hesitated, looking at Danny.

Danny sighed. "What else?"

In answer, Rusty wriggled out of his jumper and the bruises on his neck and arm were clearly visible under his t-shirt. "It's nothing."

"Yeah. Nothing," Danny answered flatly. Maybe it wasn't. In the scheme of things, in comparison

Rusty smiled. "What, you think everything should be better because it's Christmas?"

Not just because it's Christmas. "Why not?"

"Because this is the really real world?" Rusty suggested. "And we're not five?"

"Yeah." Danny wandered through to the kitchen. Rusty took his mug and followed him.

"We got enough in to eat?" he asked.

Danny pointed sternly at the nearest chair, and Rusty gave him a look and hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter instead. Well. Close enough. "All the leftovers from mom's Christmas party. Canapes and coronation turkey and about twenty different kinds of cake."

"Any real food?" Rusty asked, tilting his head back obediently.

"Now you want real food?" Danny blinked, flannel in hand.

Rusty waited until Danny had finished dabbing away the blood, and shrugged. "Just that the shops are going to be shut for a few days. We got enough bread? Milk?"

Danny sighed and looked out the window at the weather. "You just want to get me out in _that_, don't you?"

He was answered with a grin. "It's Christmas Eve and it's snowing. What more do you want? Popcorn? Ice cream? Coffee?"

Ah. Essentials. Danny gave in, less than graciously and stuck a band aid over the cut. "Okay, okay."

Rusty frowned suddenly, as if something urgent had occurred to him. "How about eggnog. We got enough eggnog?"

He looked over his shoulder at the fridge. "Uh, two and a half cartons." Rusty continued to look troubled. Danny groaned. "We'll get more."

* * *

He'd been right; it was cold outside. They walked in silence and Danny concentrated on feeling sorry for himself, and Rusty concentrated on laughing at him.

Of course, it would take a lot more misery, and a lot more entertainment, to stop them from being aware of the flurry of movement behind them, and in a moment of unplanned, unscripted and perfect coordination, Danny pushed Rusty at exactly the same moment as Rusty pushed _him_; and as a result the snowball went flying between them and splatted against the Gardiner's garage wall.

"Huh." They exchanged a quick, amused glance and turned slowly to see Mike staring at them, wide-eyed.

"That was _brilliant_!" he said, decisively. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," Rusty grinned.

"Heard you coming," Danny explained, a little more sensibly.

Mike nodded and still looked for too impressed. "We're having a snowball fight. Want to join in?"

"We're heading to the shop," Danny said, reluctantly.

"For eggnog," Rusty added.

But Danny frowned. Because . . . "On the other – "

" – well, I suppose – "

" – Haven't had – "

" – not since we were kids," Rusty agreed.

They had the time. Why not?

Mike grinned. "Great! You can be on my team."

"Hey," John appeared, brushing snow off his gloves. "We had even teams. They'll put you ahead."

Danny bit his lip; evidently John was taking this a little too seriously.

Mike shrugged. "Okay, you can have Timothy."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just split Danny and Rusty up?" John suggested. There was a pause and Mike stared at him and both boys started laughing helplessly.

"Yeah, good one," Mike sniggered, when he'd caught his breath.

Danny turned round to look at Rusty. "You think – "

" – _Oh, _yeah." Rusty agreed. They were being made fun of. Just a little.

* * *

A while later and they were trailing into Mike's kitchen on the promise of coffee.

And Danny was even colder than he had been before, and he was mildly soaked, and very out of breath, and he had snow down the back of his neck, courtesy of Timothy - who'd subsequently been sufficiently distracted by the sight of Rusty flirting with Susie for Danny to get his retaliation in. He was cold. He was wet. And he was happy and Rusty was grinning.

"John couldn't hit a snowball with the side of a barn," Rusty laughed, taking his hat off.

"You're just good at dodging," Mike answered, rummaging through the cupboards. "Hey, Danny, my parents and my little brother are out at my grandma's, and they won't be back till later. Do you . . . " He lowered his voice and trailed off significantly.

"What?" Danny asked, amused.

"Do you want a shot of something in the coffee?" Mike hissed. "_Alcohol_, I mean."

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What've you got?"

"Uh, vodka or whisky," Mike said, after a moment and a little more rummaging.

""Whisky," Rusty said immediately, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief. "Vodka doesn't go well in coffee."

Mike turned round frowning. "Rusty, are you sure you're old enough. . . " And Danny saw the precise moment when Mike noticed the bruises and he heard the audible snap when Mike closed his mouth, and still Mike stared just that little bit too long. "Right," he said eventually. "Three Irish coffees, coming up."

There was a vaguely uncomfortable silence while Mike sorted the coffees, and even as they sat and drank, Mike was still stealing glances.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, at last.

"Nah," Rusty lied, and there was an edge to his voice that made Danny nervous.

If anything, Mike looked even more troubled. "What – "

" – I walked into a door," Rusty interrupted, and this time it wasn't even worth being called a lie.

"Mike," Danny said, quietly and firmly, and Mike reluctantly changed the subject.

"You know, I could've sworn that you were away for Christmas, Danny. My mom was talking to your mom."

"She's away. I'm not." Danny explained. She was making good use of his college fund, now that she didn't have to spend it on him.

"So what are you doing for Christmas?" Mike asked innocently.

They glanced at each other and shrugged. Might as well be honest.

"Popcorn and eggnog," Rusty said happily.

"And movies," Danny nodded.

Mike smiled. "Sounds fun."

They ignored the note of pity in his voice. Just because it wasn't normal didn't mean it wasn't wonderful.

* * *

The night before Christmas and they had every cushion, pillow and blanket in the house laid out on the living room floor, and they were lying, watching the bewildering late night Christmas movies, surrounded by eggnog and ten, overflowing bowls of popcorn. They should possibly have read the instructions before they tried making the stuff. At least the bit about the recommended amount. Though Rusty seemed happy enough, and now there was no more salt or butter in the kitchen.

Bemused, Danny watched as the aliens introduced the little girl to Father Christmas.

"Isn't that kid a little too old to believe in Santa?" Rusty asked idly.

She looked about thirteen. And there was a line to be drawn between charmingly naïve and dangerously stupid. Still. "She's sitting on the back of a flying reindeer," he pointed out. "Under the circumstances, I might reconsider."

Rusty acknowledged the point and took another handful of popcorn.

Danny was thinking. "I was eight," he said, thoughtfully, remembering.

"Yeah?" Rusty propped himself up on his elbow and turned away from the movie.

"_Just_ eight," Danny clarified. "Christmas Eve. Mom sat me down and told me I was far too old to be believing in children's stories. Dad was so angry with her. They hardly said a word to each other till New Years. It was pretty peaceful, actually. And I guess Dad felt guilty or something, because he bought me three new GI Joes."

"GI Joes?" Rusty asked, and there was pain behind his smile.

Danny shrugged. "He tried."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, and he raised his glass and Danny gratefully joined in the silent toast.

"How old were you?" Danny asked presently.

"When?" Rusty asked, after an undetectable pause.

Danny blinked. There was something . . ? "When you found out the truth about Saint Nick."

Rusty grinned. "Who says I have?"

"Rusty," Danny said, frowning.

There was a reluctant sigh. "I was seven."

Seven. The Christmas after they'd met then. And with a growing sense of guilt, Danny replayed a couple of conversations in his head, that first Christmas. Oh. Fuck. "I'm sorry, Rus'."

"Don't be," Rusty told him sharply. "I was glad."

And Danny looked up sharply, because again, there was something. "Why?"

Rusty hesitated. "It's better . . . " He paused and started again. "It's easier to know that it's just your parents who . . . not some all-knowing being who thinks you're . . ." he shrugged helplessly, and Danny understood and the small voice of infinite fury that was hardly ever silent screamed again.

"Oh," he said, shortly, tightly, hopelessly.

"He knows if you've been bad or good," Rusty quoted, with a grin.

"They didn't get you anything," he stated, and he'd known, certainly he'd known that since Rusty's mom left there'd been no seasonal cheer, no festive food, no presents. Didn't stop him from hating it.

"Sometimes they got me something," Rusty defended and Danny clenched his jaw. "When I was young enough to need it. Clothes or candy. Even a jigsaw once."

"Rus'," he said quietly.

Rusty sighed. "I _know_, Danny. But even if they'd wanted to they never had that much money."

"They always had enough to spend on themselves," Danny answered bitterly.

"And most of the time, so have I," Rusty pointed out. "But the year before, Dad had just lost his job. And I suppose it was easier just to tell me that I was far too bad for Santa to bring me anything."

Danny swore. For a long time. Parents. He could live without them.

Rusty smiled. "This time next year?" he offered gently.

He nodded. They'd be far away.

They looked back at the TV. "Hey, Jimmy Stewart," Rusty said, delightedly.

"We watched it when it was on two days ago," Danny pointed out.

"I checked the listings. We can watch it three more times this week." And Danny wasn't completely convinced that Rusty knew that wasn't a good idea.

He smiled and shuffled closer to Rusty, lay close enough to touch, and he reached past him as though the eggnog was all he'd wanted.

* * *

_In his dream, he was sixteen again and he sat at the table with his mother and picked at the trifle and tried to think of something to say that might make her smile. The conversation flowed like ice. _

_He was fifteen again, in a foreign country. Yvette had just left, and he was feeling like a stupid little boy, and he was lonely and he missed his dad so very much. He wished he could talk to Rusty._

_He was fourteen again and his side hurt, and Uncle Harold had been on the phone for hours, or at least long enough that the turkey had gone cold. He knew better than to be rude enough to start without him. In a couple of days his parents would be home. A couple of days after that his dad would move out for good. _

_He was thirteen, he was twelve, he was eleven and they _wouldn't stop arguing_._

_He was ten and they were eating Chinese take out because Mom had dropped the turkey on the floor. She'd said it was an accident. She'd said it was his fault. He'd only wanted to know why he couldn't invite Rusty to spend the night at New Years. She always let him have a friend over while the party was on. _

_He was nine and it was just him and Mom. She said Dad had found something better to do. She let him stay up late and made him hot chocolate and cried when she thought he wasn't looking. He asked if it was his fault. She didn't answer. _

_He was eight and there was a little less wonder in the world._

_He was seven, he was six, he was five and he tried so hard to be good, and he always got everything he asked for, so _Santa_ had to think he was a good boy. So why didn't Mom and Daddy notice? Why wasn't he good enough? He'd make them notice. This time next year, they'd love him._

_In his dream Rusty was thirteen, ten, twelve, five, nine, any age, every age, clutching a candy cane, a string of popcorn broken at his feet, and his father stood over him and swung his fist, his foot, his belt, again and again and Rusty bled and didn't cry._

_Danny did._

_

* * *

_

He woke up with his arm trapped under the cushion they'd dragged off the settee in the hall, and it took him a little while to remember where he was. Right. Living room. Christmas. He sat up only to see Rusty sitting far too close to the TV, wrapped in a duvet and sitting on a pile of about eight pillows, watching the opening scenes of 'Bambi'.

"Change the channel," Danny said firmly. Rusty twisted round and there was definitely the beginnings of a pout, but some things he wouldn't be swayed on. "Don't give me that, you _know_ why."

"Happy Christmas to you too," Rusty grumbled, but he found 'Miracle on 34th Street' instead.

"How long you been awake?" Danny asked, stretching.

"'Jungle Book'" Rusty told him, laconically.

Danny nodded. "Anything for breakfast?"

"Eggnog, chocolate, and lots of popcorn," Rusty suggested.

Huh. "It'll be cold," he pointed out. Cold popcorn tasted like cardboard. And they still had six bowls of it.

Rusty looked thoughtful. "Think we could put it back on the stove?"

There was a long, carefully considered pause.

"No," Danny said at last.

"No," Rusty agreed.

No setting fire to the kitchen at Christmas. If at all possible.

"Ice cream?" Danny suggested instead. Since Rusty had insisted they buy three cartons of it at the store yesterday. Might as well get good use out of it.

"How about coffee and croissants?" Rusty said, with a smile.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Positively civilised," he remarked.

"We can have ice cream for dessert," Rusty added and Danny smiled. Very reasonable.

They ate breakfast and watched the rest of the movie play out, and Danny kept glancing over and hesitating and wondering if he'd done the right thing.

"What?" Rusty asked at last.

Danny sighed. "Well. I know we agreed that we weren't going to get each other anything – "

" - Because we need to save all our money – " Rusty interjected.

" – yeah." Danny nodded. "Yeah. But – "

Rusty smiled at him. " – But we were both lying. Remember?"

He relaxed. He did remember. "Happy Christmas, Rusty," he pulled the package out from where he'd hidden it under the sofa.

With a smile, Rusty produced his own package. Rather disturbingly, the wrapping paper was identical. "After you," he said, politely.

"No, I insist. After you," Danny replied, with an equally fake politeness in his voice.

Rusty grinned and pulled the bow to pieces.

"Hey!" Danny objected. "That took me ages."

"You're supposed to be creative and dextrous," Rusty told him, as he reverently lifted the dark brown leather wallet out of the paper. "Oh, that is _nice_. Thank you, Danny."

And the appreciation in Rusty's voice was wonderful to hear, but he hadn't seen half of it yet. "Check the lining," Danny said eagerly. "At the top."

Rusty frowned at him, but he carefully felt his way along the edge, and Danny grinned at the moment when he found the hidden compartment and his expression changed. The wallet opened just a little bit further than looked possible, revealing an assortment of new and shiny lockpicks and tools. "_Danny_," Rusty breathed and honestly, Danny would probably do anything for that look and that smile.

"You're welcome," he said, and the smile wasn't dying away any time soon. He liked the thought of Rusty always having an extra means of escape on him.

"Open yours," Rusty demanded, equally eager, and Danny was only too happy to oblige. Under the paper was a box, and inside that was . . . _oh_. Inside that was a gold wristwatch. And it was beautiful, and it was elegant, and it was exactly his style, and it must have cost a fortune (_and some part of him would always have to wonder _whose) but that wasn't what brought the lump to his throat when he held it up to admire it. The two sets of initials engraved on the back. The date. The message.

_This year. Next year. Always._

He looked up at Rusty, watching him – hopefully? Anxiously? – and he couldn't even speak, and he could only be thankful that it was him and it was Rusty and he never needed to.

Rusty smiled and raised a glass of eggnog. "To next year."

"To always," Danny whispered back.

There'd never been a better Christmas before. But next year they'd be free.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed this. And I can tell you now that have two more chapters of this half written on my hard drive, so my serious work ethic issues notwithstanding, hopefully won't be as long to wait for the next chapter.**

**Season's greetings, whatever the season you're reading this in.**


	20. The humiliation of Norris Carrol

**This is for NothingToulouse, because she made the wonderful picture that's on my profile, and I realised that it was incumbent on me to explain what was going on. Which is in this chapter. And resulted in so many more bits in this chapter that I just would never have thought of. Thank you very much. ;D  
**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**4. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**5. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**6. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**8. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**9. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**10. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**12. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**13. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**14. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**15. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**16. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**17. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

Slightly annoyed with himself, Rusty wandered out of the school towards the back steps. He found Danny without much difficulty, sitting against the wall listening to Mike and David argue about something. It was possible robots were involved. Danny looked up as soon as Rusty stepped round the corner, and his eyes smiled a greeting, and despite his mood and the real worry that he'd just committed them to something stupid, Rusty smiled back.

"Hey, Mike, hey, David." He leaned against the wall but didn't bother sitting. Somehow, he didn't think they'd be there much longer.

"Hi, Rusty." Mike looked up at him. "Where've you been?"

He shrugged. "Someone wanted to talk to me." He looked at Danny, who, naturally, got the point immediately and stood up slowly.

"Problem?" he asked.

Rusty considered. "Something," he answered finally.

Danny nodded. "Okay then." He looked back at Mike and David. "We'll see you guys later."

The other boys looked intrigued but didn't ask. At some point it had become accepted that sometimes – most times - they just didn't share. "Later," David agreed.

"Don't be late for class," Mike yelled after them.

They walked off, heading nowhere in particular, but avoiding the crowds, and avoiding anyone who might want to overhear. "_Are_ we going to be late for class?" Danny asked finally.

"Nah," Rusty assured him. "Not something we need to do something about right now."

Danny nodded. "So? What's up?"

Where to begin. "Brady Taggart stopped me after class. He was crying."

"Embarrassing?" Danny asked lightly.

"Very." He sighed. Personally he wouldn't have thought he was the obvious shoulder to cry on, and other than offering tissues and promising to help, he'd had no idea what to do. "We've got to do something about Norris Carrol." Personally he'd prefer something permanent, but he'd settle for solving Brady's immediate problem.

They stopped and leaned against the far wall. Danny frowned. "What's he done now?"

"Stolen Brady's golf clubs. Brady would like them back." Unsurprisingly. Norris was getting a little more ambitious these days. This went a little past stealing lunch money,

Danny blinked. "I'd think so," he agreed, incredulously.

"Needs them by Saturday," Rusty went on. "He and his dad are playing in some father son golf tournament."

"Oh, my dad was talking about entering that," Danny said casually.

Rusty paused. Because that was a little distracting. "You can't play golf," he pointed out.

"He was going to teach me." Danny shrugged. "Guess he was too busy."

As always. He glanced over, but Danny shook his head minutely. Not up for discussion today. He changed the subject. "Brady was crying, Danny." And that was important too.

Danny leaned back and stared up at the sky. "Norris isn't exactly going to be happy with us."

To say the least. "I know." Norris liked to think that he was untouchable. And so far, he seemed to be right.

"I mean, if he took the clubs that's theft," Danny went on. "That's wrong."

Rusty blinked. This coming from Danny? "Well – "

Danny rolled his eyes. " – leaving our own moral grey areas aside, why can't Brady just tell his dad? Or a teacher, or something. I mean, if it was just some toy or something, they'd ignore it, sure. But a set of golf clubs?"

Yeah, that was where it got awkward. "Brady was putting balls in the park when Norris took them. He wasn't supposed to have the clubs out of the house."

"And he doesn't want to get in any trouble." Danny nodded understandingly.

Rusty bit his lip. "He said his dad would kill him, Danny." He spoke quietly. Looked down at the ground.

There was a long, long silence.

"Rus' – "

" – I know." He carried on studying the ground.

"He doesn't mean it the way you would," Danny said gently.

"I _know." _He did. He really did. It just didn't change the way he felt.

"I've met Brady's dad. You've met Brady's dad. Brady _worships_ his dad," Danny went on, and it was all true.

"I know." He scuffed his shoe against the dirt.

Danny sighed. "So we're talking about possibly a lot of consequences and for what?"

Rusty lifted his head and turned to face him. "He was crying. And he said his dad was going to kill him. What do you want to do?"

There was a slight pause. But really, there was only ever going to be one answer. Danny nodded thoughtfully. "We're going to need a good distraction."

* * *

"I don't get it," Brady said finally

Rusty took a break from watching Danny pretending to be comfortable in the scout uniform and turned to look at the boy sitting next to him in the tree. "What?"

"I don't get how selling Norris Carrol's mom cookies is going to help." Brady sounded a little frustrated.

"We're not selling her cookies. Well," he corrected, as Mrs Carrol answered the door, purse in hand. "We're not _just _selling her cookies. Danny's going to bring the conversation round to Norris and we're going to find out if we can use her as a threat. Tell Norris we'll tell his mom on him if he doesn't give your clubs back."

Brady frowned. "Why can't you just say that anyway?"

"Some kids aren't scared of their parents for whatever reason," Rusty explained. "No use making empty threats. We need him to take us seriously." He grinned as Danny followed Mrs Carrol into the house. "Also, Danny's going to get a look at the layout of the place. In case we decide we need to pay Norris a visit and make a quick exit."

Brady's eyes were wide. "She invited him inside."

"He asked to use the bathroom," Rusty told him. "People trust scouts. Think it's the shorts."

"But . .. " Brady trailed off uncertainly.

Rusty nodded patiently. "Yes?"

"But Norris is over at the park with my clubs right now!" Brady burst out.

"Uh huh." Rusty kept his tone even. "Him and five other guys. Do me and Danny look like we could fight six guys and walk away afterwards?"

Brady looked sheepish. "No."

"Yeah." Rusty grinned. "Got to use what you've got."

"What have you got?" Brady asked, innocently.

Rusty grinned some more. "We'll let you know."

Danny re-emerged from the house and smiled and waved goodbye to Mrs Carrol. Once the door was shut he strolled over to the base of the tree and looked up. "No good."

"No?" Rusty leapt down lightly. Brady followed, rather more awkwardly.

"Too many people in the house. No way we could sneak in and out unnoticed. And the mom's no good either. He's the apple of her eye. Can do no wrong. Apparently, little Norrie keeps being led astray by bad boys, who then turn around and slander his good name."

Rusty considered that for a few seconds. "Huh."

"Yeah." Danny agreed wholeheartedly.

Rusty frowned. "She's not going to believe – "

" – and he – "

" – knows she won't - "

" – so we'll have to – "

" – oh, we'll have to – "

" – and that means – "

" – a _very _good distraction," Rusty finished.

For some inexplicable reason Brady was staring at them, open-mouthed.

* * *

Rusty stood hidden amongst the trees, watching Norris and his friends and waiting for the bang. Brady's clubs were scattered over the ground. They'd been using them as swords or something earlier. Idiots. Oh well; Rusty was pretty sure that golf clubs were designed to withstand a lot.

The first bang sounded a little closer than he would have liked. He rubbed at his mouth; Danny had agreed to stay further away. The last thing they wanted was to get seen, let alone caught. But the noise got the boys' attention at least.

"What was that?"

"Don't know."

"Sounded like an explosion!"

The second bang came almost immediately, a little further away. He watched Norris smile savagely. "Someone's got M80s."

And, just as they'd figured, the boys ran off in the direction of the fireworks. Something new and shiny and they wanted it. Huh. He could almost relate, actually.

When he was sure they were out of the way, he quickly ran over to where they'd been and started gathering the clubs together and putting them into the bag. He couldn't help but wonder why Brady needed so many different clubs anyway. Wasn't as if you changed bat after every swing in baseball. He didn't think.

There were a couple more explosions. Danny keeping them interested.

And then there was yelling and it sounded angry and it sounded triumphant and somehow, something had gone wrong.

He forced the last club into the bag, swung it over his shoulder and started running back into the trees, towards the yelling, towards Danny.

He was just in time to see Danny run past, Norris Carrol close behind, far too close, and when he saw him reach out to tackle Danny, Rusty didn't even think, he just swung the golf bag forwards, right towards Norris' shins and Norris tripped and fell heavily to the ground.

Danny turned back and grinned. "Slight change of plan!" he explained.

Rusty nodded and started running. "You don't say."

"Those are my clubs!" Norris screeched from behind them, and he was getting up, and his friends were barely behind him. And honestly, they couldn't hope to outdistance all of them for long.

"Danny – " he began.

" – I know! Is that bag waterproof?" Danny asked, and Rusty suddenly realised exactly where they were heading. The bridge over Slate's Pond.

"Yep." He grinned. This was a really stupid idea.

Danny was slightly ahead of him, and even as he watched Danny run straight up to the wall at the side and vault over it without even breaking stride, even as he was preparing to do the same six feet further along, and listening for the splash, and the yell that Danny was fine, he was aware of the boys behind them skidding to a halt, shouting in confusion.

His hand was on the cold stone wall. He closed his eyes and jumped off the bridge.

The water was surprisingly cold. Not freezing, not painful, but cold, and dark and it closed over his head and by the time he'd wriggled free of the golf bag, his lungs were starting to burn a little and he wasn't altogether certain where up was. He kicked and struggled in what he thought was the right direction and almost immediately a hand seized his wrist and pulled him up and into the air.

Danny's face was white. Somehow Rusty didn't think it was all the cold.

"Had to let go of the golf bag," he explained, treading water with some difficulty.

"We'll come back for it," Danny said shortly. "Kick your shoes off."

Rusty hesitated. "They're my only pair," he said apologetically. They were on the brink of falling to pieces, and he seriously doubted that they'd survive getting soaked _anyway,_ but they were all he had.

The look that Danny gave him was full of frustration, incredulity and the far too familiar mixture of fear and fury. And the other thing. The thing that he didn't understand and had been there more and more the past few months.

Rusty sighed and kicked his shoes off.

Danny relaxed a little. "You ready to head for shore?" he asked, like the delay had all been Rusty's idea.

"Head for shore?" Rusty repeated incredulously.

Danny grinned slightly. "What?"

"You sound like Popeye." He looked up at the bridge.

"They ran away," Danny told him. "I looked, just after you jumped. Guess they thought – "

" – unexpected ." Rusty agreed.

"You ready?" Danny asked again.

He nodded, and followed as Danny started swimming. And he knew that Danny could have made it in half the time it took them. Knew, even, that Danny was having a hard time slowing his pace enough to match Rusty. But he also knew that the idea of leaving him behind would never so much as cross Danny's mind. And as he half submerged for the sixth time and choked on another mouthful of water, and felt Danny's steadying and concerned arm pulling him back up, he was incredibly relieved. Even more so when the water got shallow enough for Danny to stand and he immediately pulled Rusty along with him, until it finally got shallow enough for him to feel safe.

They pulled themselves out of the water and lay back on the grass to dry off in the sun.

"Slight change of plan?" Rusty asked eventually.

Danny sighed. "Norris has been watching too many war movies. They outflanked me."

"Should have got slow burning fuses," Rusty pondered. "Could have set them off and been nowhere near."

"You know how to do that?" Danny frowned.

"No," Rusty admitted. "But maybe we could have figured it out."

"Maybe," Danny agreed. And he hesitated and there was something else . . .

"What?" Rusty asked, his eyes fixed on Danny.

"I asked if the bag was waterproof," Danny said eventually.

"Uh huh?" Rusty prompted gently.

"I didn't ask if you could swim." And Danny's voice was flat and Rusty could hear the guilt.

"I can swim," he protested. Danny looked at him. "Not that well," he admitted. "Never really had a chance to practice."

Danny nodded. His eyes were dark. "But I didn't ask. I just – "

" – Assumed," Rusty interrupted. "Of course you did. Most people can swim. Better than I can, I mean."

"Most people don't jump off bridges because their friend thinks it's a good idea." Danny wasn't finished feeling guilty.

"Most people don't know what they're missing out on," Rusty said and he smiled. "Nothing bad happened, Danny. Would have been much worse if they caught us. And anyway. I can swim. And if you'd asked, that's what I'd have told you."

Danny nodded and smiled back. "You're going to learn properly."

Rusty blinked. "How many more times are you planning on jumping off the bridge?"

"Until we get it right." He stood up. "Let's go and get Brady's clubs back."

Neither of them was particularly anxious to go swimming again, but the bag had drifted closer to the edge and was now caught and half submerged in a bunch of weeds. They looked at it thoughtfully for a long moment, then Rusty went and found a long stick. "Here," he said, handing it over. "See if you can hook the straps."

Danny grimaced and crouched down and made a vague effort. "Can't reach."

"You'll need to lean further in," Rusty said, dryly. He crouched down beside Danny and started playing absent-mindedly with a handful of the weeds.

Scowling, Danny stretched further, and his sleeve dipped in to the water. "If I fall in, I'm blaming you."

"Think I'll survive," Rusty told him.

There was silence, for a while, and Danny tried and failed to get the bag. "Norris saw us," he said eventually.

"Yeah," Rusty said quietly. There was going to be trouble. Serious trouble. "He's going to – "

" – he's going to _try_," Danny corrected and Rusty nodded reassured.

Danny jumped suddenly. "Something brushed my arm! Something slimy!"

Rusty looked in to the pond with all the assurance of someone who hadn't just been touched by something slimy. "Probably a fish. Or a frog."

"Remind me." And Rusty could hear Danny grinding his teeth. "Why am I doing this?"

He smiled sweetly. "You're taller. Longer arms."

Danny's eyes narrowed. "And I'm not the one who dropped the bag."

Rusty looked at him. "You want me to wade out and get it? Even though we don't really know how deep the water might get there, and I could easily fall and drown?"

There was a slight pause. "Thought you could swim?" Danny said lightly.

"Get the bag," Rusty suggested.

Danny grinned and tried again, and this time, to both their surprise, he hooked the stick round the straps and pulled the bag towards them easily.

"Huh," Rusty said, approvingly.

"What are we getting out of all this again?" Danny asked, semi-seriously.

"The respect and admiration of our peers," Rusty suggested.

"Huh," Danny agreed, thoughtfully.

"And to stop Brady crying on me again." That was worth a lot.

* * *

Brady had been overjoyed to get his golf clubs back, even if they were damper than he remembered them. And he'd also been more than willing to let them use his bathroom to clean up as best they could, but the fact remained that even if _they_ were now clean, their clothes were filthy – probably ruined – and they were both shoeless.

"My parents are not going to be happy if they see this," Danny frowned, looking down at himself.

Rusty nodded. "My dad'll kill me."

There was silence. Consequences loomed.

"Think we could sneak back to yours?" he suggested finally. "Then you'd have something clean at least. And maybe you've got something that'd fit me."

"Clothes maybe," Danny said absently. "Shoes are more difficult."

"Could wear a couple of pair of socks."

"Until when?" Danny demanded and Rusty shrugged, because he didn't know. His mom had used to buy him clothes, or give him money to buy clothes, or obtain clothes from _somewhere_. Now that she was gone, he honestly didn't know what he was supposed to be doing.

"We need to go shopping," Danny decided suddenly.

Rusty blinked. "You think – "

" – money's easy." Danny shrugged. "Why not?"

Enough money for shoes? And clothes? That was more than they'd normally go after. Especially since he doubted that Danny was thinking about going to the charity shops that all _his_ clothes always came from. He smiled. "Why not?" he agreed. New clothes. Clothes that he wanted.

* * *

By the time the bell signalled the end of lunch the next day, Danny was still complaining.

"It's hideous."

Rusty looked down at the shirt fondly. Deep blue with a pattern of bright purple flames and silver flowers. Personally, he thought it was the most amazing shirt he'd ever seen.

"And it's too big for you," Danny continued.

It was. Far too big for him, really. But he'd grow into it, and in the meantime he could wear it over a t-shirt, and the point was he liked it and he'd chosen it for himself and it was _new_ and it was _his_.

Danny's eyes softened slightly. "We should get to class." They stood up and started to head in opposite directions. "Later?"

"Later," Rusty confirmed. "With pie."

* * *

The trouble was, even though they'd known trouble was coming for them, they'd assumed it was coming for _them._ It was easy to grow too used to being together. In school, in town, no-one thought of them separately anymore, no-one _dealt_ with them separately anymore. And somehow, Rusty had thought that would be the case here, right up until the point where Norris Carrol and five of his friends were waiting for him round the corner. Should have remembered that Norris didn't go after anyone where they were strong.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Norris asked and there was smugness and triumph and confidence. "A little thief, that's what."

Rusty resisted the urge to point out that the golf clubs were stolen in the first place. Because they needed to keep Brady out of it, and Norris would never dream that they'd have given the clubs back. He was all about himself. They were something else. He sighed and looked bored, and thought about the best way to run. "Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"I don't like thieves," Norris snarled. "I don't like little runts thinking they can take my stuff. I'm going to teach you it's wrong to steal."

"You should think very carefully about what you're doing right now." It wasn't an idle threat.

"What are you going to do?" Norris sneered and leaned in close to him. He did his best not to step back. "Run and get your mommy?"

He blinked and said nothing. The wall pressed close behind him.

"Oh, that's right. She left you, didn't she? Poor little baby." Norris smiled and his friends laughed. "My dad says she's standing on a street corner down at the shore."

Rusty knew what that meant. And he knew that Norris was just parroting what he'd heard from adults.. And he didn't know if it was true. He kept his face blank and ignored the pain and the emptiness.

Norris seemed angered by his lack of reaction and took a step closer and it took so much to suppress the automatic flinch. "She went running off and she left you behind. She didn't want you. Your own mother didn't want you."

He forced a smile. "Not like your mommy. Right? _Norrie_?"

The punch was immediate and expected, and that wasn't what was strange.

Rusty put a surprised hand to his mouth. He blinked and looked at Norris in astonishment. "You hit like a girl!"

It hadn't hurt nearly as much as he'd been expecting. But looking at the clouds of shock and anger crossing Norris' face, pointing that out might not have been the most sensible thing he'd ever done.

He quickly kicked Norris in the shin and when he hopped backwards with a howl of pain and outrage, Rusty took the few seconds advantage to scramble backwards, over the wall and out of the school.

He ran, and they didn't chase him.

He could circle round, come back in the other gate. Being late for class was the least of his problems right now. This wasn't the end of the matter. He was sure of that.

* * *

Despondently Rusty followed the rest of his class to the games field. Mr Barclay had done a nice little piece of stand-up about him actually taking part, for once. Rusty couldn't help but think that teachers should have to pass some sort of test before they were allowed to use humour. So he missed a lot of classes. It wasn't like he didn't want to take part. Actually, to be honest, he probably _didn't _want to take part. But he always had a note that always appeared to be signed by his dad. Okay. It had been a few weeks. But he couldn't help it. Baggy clothes were so much more forgiving than gym kit, so much more able to hide a multitude of sins.

"Psssst! Hey! Ryan!"

Sounded like someone was trying to get his attention. Someone who clearly failed on the finer points of subtlety.

He turned round to see Buzz Fairley beckoning to him from behind the sports hall. Okay. Seemed like soccer could wait.

Casually he dropped back, behind the last of the stragglers, and when he was sure no-one would notice, he darted over to where Buzz was waiting, less than patiently.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Ocean's looking for you," Buzz said immediately, and he was frowning and Rusty's breath caught in his throat. _Danny_.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Is he okay?"

"_He's_ fine," Buzz said, glaring at Rusty's lip. "Frantic, and about to get a month of detention, but fine."

He shook his head, not understanding. "What?"

"Him and me were just in math class. And Norris Carrol was shooting his mouth off." Buzz was looking at him pointedly.

"Oh." Rusty understood. It hadn't occurred to him that Norris would tell Danny. He'd still been stuck on figuring out how _he_ was going to tell Danny.

"Yeah," Buzz said heavily. Again his gaze wandered to Rusty's lip. "Guess it's true."

There were more important things to focus on. "Where is he?"

"Went to check your usual hangouts. I said I'd go see if you were where you were meant to be." And there was a question in his voice.

"Wasn't a big thing." Rusty dismissed it. Because it hadn't been. The idea of cutting class hadn' even crossed his mind. "Thanks, Buzz."

Buzz shrugged. "Don't mention it."

He ran off as quickly as he could, because Danny needed to know he was all right, as soon as possible. Eventually he found Danny at the tree down past the cafeteria. And Danny looked up as soon as he turned the corner and his eyes were miserable and fearful and one hand gripped Rusty's shoulder tightly, and the other brushed over the cut lip.

"I'm okay," Rusty said, reassuringly. "Danny, I'm fine."

Danny nodded. "He said he beat you up. He said he made you cry."

"He didn't. He was lying." He could barely even remember the last time he'd cried for real. It had been a long time ago.

"I know that. Of course I know that. But I . . . I didn't know what he _had _done." And he hated the remains of the panic in Danny's voice. Hated the thought that it was so easy for Danny to be hurt. Because of him.

He sighed. "He said a few things. About my mom, mostly. I called him Norrie, he hit me. Once. I kicked him and ran away. It was nothing, Danny, honestly." He'd had so much worse. Even within the last month he'd had so much worse.

"He said . . ." Danny shook his head. "I wanted to kill him. Right there in math class."

Rusty smiled. "Bet Mr Kapp would have had something to say about that," he said lightly.

"Yeah." Danny's voice was quiet.

"That's what he wanted," Rusty pointed out gently. "You in trouble."

There was a long pause. "He saw," Danny said eventually.

Rusty grimaced. "Yeah."

Danny sighed. "He got a reaction." he admitted.

"He's going to keep trying," Rusty agreed.

Danny nodded. "We need to do something."

There was a long silence and they both thought.

"Wanna skip the rest of the afternoon?" Danny suggested. At this point, going back to class didn't sound like much of an option.

"Need to go pick up my stuff first," Rusty answered. They could sneak back into the locker room easy enough though.

Danny looked at him for a second.

"What?" he demanded, a little irritably.

"What did he say about your mom?" Danny asked quietly.

Damn. "It's not important," he said, dismissively.

Danny disagreed. "It's important."

He sighed. "Just stuff. That she didn't care about me. That she's working a street corner, somewhere."

Danny's hand rubbed his shoulder gently.

He sighed again. "I've heard it all before, Danny." That and worse.

And Danny, who knew where he'd heard it before and when he'd heard it before and from whom he he'd heard it before, said nothing.

* * *

The next morning, they still hadn't thought of anything. Even though they'd spent most of the previous evening thinking and plotting and planning and eating pie at Mabel's. They just hadn't had any good ideas. They were completely stuck. And that was unusual.

The moment they walked through the school gate, he could tell something was up. There were people staring at them. Or, rather, there were people staring at him. And that was a long way off being comfortable. He rubbed at his lip thoughtfully. Couldn't be that. It was barely swollen. The cut was barely noticeable. And if people paid attention each time he was hurt, well, they'd probably never stop.

He glanced at Danny. Oh, he'd noticed. Rusty struggled not to smile at the way that Danny was walking a step ahead of him, trying to shield him from the looks. The perfect bodyguard.

Danny looked at him and there was a distinct lack of amusement. "What's going on?" he hissed.

Rusty shrugged. He had no idea.

"Right," Danny nodded. "Guess - "

" - Direct approach," Rusty agreed.

They looked round and stepped in front of the first person they saw that they knew well enough.

"Good morning, Doug," they said in unison.

Doug blinked at them and then his eyes widened. "Hey! Rusty! Did you really get in a fight with Norris Carrol yesterday?"

So that was what this was about. He shrugged. "Wouldn't exactly call it a fight."

"Man, he's, like, twice your height!" Doug chattered excitedly and Rusty silently made sure that Danny knew exactly what he would be letting himself in for if he laughed. "And you really told him he hit like a girl?"

He frowned. "He does." And Danny tensed at his side, and Rusty didn't know why.

"Yeah, right." Doug rolled his eyes. "I got in a fight with him a few months back. Well. He beat me up, anyway. He punches like a tank!"

Rusty hadn't heard of many tanks with fists, but he let it go. "And that's what everyone's talking about?"

"Yeah! It's all over school." Doug grinned. "It's awesome!"

Awesome. Right.

Doug looked over his shoulder. "Oops. Gotta go! See you when I see you." He scampered off.

Rusty glanced sideways at Danny and shrugged. "Least we know."

"Right," Danny sounded far away, and there was something that Rusty was missing.

"You think he was holding back?" he asked. "It really didn't hurt that much."

Danny shook his head tightly. "No. He wasn't holding back."

He frowned. "Then what - "

" - he hits like a thirteen year old, Rus'!" The words fell out of Danny like he hated every last implication.

Oh. Right. He tried a light tone. "Who'd have thought - "

" - Don't." Danny shook his head and got himself back under control. "It matters. A lot."

There was silence and Rusty didn't know how to make it better.

Presently Danny sighed, and they started to walk towards the building.

People were still looking. He could only hope that they got over it soon. He really, really, wasn't comfortable.

And then, suddenly, they were face to face with Norris Carrol. And people were whispering and pointing at him. And he was staring at them. And Rusty braced himself for the counter, and was aware of Danny doing the same, and then Norris turned on his heel and walked off as quickly as he could.

Rusty blinked and turned to Danny. "Can you - " he began, and then he stopped. Because Danny was still staring after Norris. And there was a familiar look shining on his face. Rusty started to smile. "What are you thinking?"

Danny grinned. "Can't be scary and funny at the same time."

That was . . . "You want to - "

" - I want to," Danny agreed. "What have we got?"

And Rusty grinned back. "He didn't like being called a girl."

Danny nodded. "He's a mommy's boy."

"And he's got a crush on Mrs Mercater," Rusty added. That should be enough to be going on with.

"Really?" Danny blinked.

Rusty nodded. He'd heard it from several unimpeachable sources.

"Well." Danny considered. "No accounting for tastes."

"You've got gym class this afternoon with Mr Barclay?" It wasn't really a question; he already knew the answer.

Danny nodded anyway. "Yeah. You thinking - "

" - he'd read it out," Rusty agreed.

"You sure?"

He was sure. "He always reads my notes aloud. To make fun of dad's spelling. If Norris drops something - "

" - he'll read it." Danny smiled. "I can get his literature homework for lunchtime."

"Good." It would be a lot harder for Norris to deny it if it was in his own handwriting.

Danny frowned. "He reads out your notes?"

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "Started putting in spelling mistakes just to keep him amused."

"He's as much a bully as Norris," Danny said, with a touch of anger.

Rusty shrugged. Probably. But that wasn't their problem. Norris was.

* * *

Lunchtime, and he stared between Norris' homework and the blank sheet of paper. Three pages of practising, and he thought he had the handwriting down. "What do you write in a love letter, anyway?"

Danny blinked. "Don't know. I've never written one."

"You're a lot of use," he complained, lightly.

There was a pause, and Danny looked like he was thinking. "How about . . . Dear Mrs Mercater. Every time I see you I think about how beautiful you are. I know you're married, but would you be my girlfriend? I promise to get better marks in History. Love, Norris."

Rusty smirked. "You sure you haven't done this before?"

"Why would I want to?" Danny demanded.

And Rusty's smirk widened into a grin. "Why would you want Sara to notice you in - "

" - one day you'll understand," Danny said, loftily.

He shook his head and Danny laughed, and Rusty looked down and wrote out the letter in Norris' best handwriting.

* * *

By the end of the day, no-one was looking at Rusty anymore. No-one was talking about him. Instead all the gossips were discussing Norris' little love note and his expression of bewildered embarrassment, and the silly voice that Mr Barclay had put on to read it.

First stage managed and in the evening Rusty and Danny were relaxing in Danny's sitting room, working on the second stage. Danny's parents were out at some dinner party or something. They weren't expected back till late, and Rusty was planning on staying over. He'd stopped in to his place immediately after school, and his dad's friends had been over and the apartment had been full of smoke and empty bottles and malicious laughter. There was nothing there that he was anxious to risk going through again.

He pricked his finger on the needle for the third time and sucked on it till the bleeding stopped. The last thing he wanted was to get blood on the lacey hankerchief. Danny's mom might notice if they had to steal more than one.

Danny was looking at him, and there was still a definite amusement in the air.

"What?" he sighed, taking his finger out of his mouth, momentarily.

"Seriously, when did you learn to sew?" Danny asked, a grin in his voice. "And why?"

He shrugged. "Comes in handy," he explained. "Makes clothes last longer. And I guess Mom taught me. Kind of. I watched her mend my dad's favourite shirt after I ripped it, one time. And it seemed useful so I tried it myself."

Danny was still looking at him, but the amusement had faded. "After _you_ ripped your dad's shirt?" he asked and his voice was bitter and weary.

Rusty frowned. "Yeah."

Danny sighed. "You sure that's what happened?"

"Yeah." He remembered the punishment distinctly. "I was hiding under my bed and when he had to drag me out the sleeve ripped." He suddenly understood what Danny was getting at and he looked down at the ground. "Oh."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, softly.

"_He_ ripped the shirt," Rusty said, after a long moment, and he looked up at Danny. "Right?"

"Right." And Danny's smile was sad, but it was there and that was the main thing. "Show me."

He crossed over to the sofa and sat beside Danny. "You sure?"

"You said it comes in useful," Danny answered and Rusty smiled and set about teaching Danny how to sew.

* * *

They waited with the hankerchief until Norris, and his gang of minions, tried to confront the two of them in the middle of the corridor. Obviously he wanted to prove once and for all who was tough.

And he started off by pushing Danny, and Rusty had to force himself not to start the fight that he couldn't finish. Instead he dropped the hankerchief and bent, picked it up and handed it back to Norris.

Lacey, pink and embroidered with flowers. He made sure everyone around them got a good look at it. "You dropped this," he said innocently, and he pretended he couldn't hear, and didn't understand, the giggles.

Norris flushed red and stepped back. "That's not mine!" he declared loudly.

"Really?" Rusty's eyes were wide and he studied the hankerchief carefully. "But it fell out of your pocket. And it's got your initials sewn on it. Look!" he thrust it at Norris who took yet another step back and refused to take it. So he showed it around the other people in the corridor instead. "See? It says 'NC'."

"He's right," John agreed. "Must be Norris'."

And the laughter grew louder and Norris retreated in confusion and Rusty caught Danny's eye and grinned happily.

* * *

Norris left them alone for the rest of the day. And the next day. The day after that he tried to trip Rusty in the corridor and they papered his locker with pictures of Mrs Mercater. He had to explain himself to Principal Mallie. Which, Rusty was prepared to concede, was probably extraordinarily difficult. But not half as difficult as getting the pictures had been.

The weekend passed slowly; Danny's parents took him to see his grandmother and it rained hard enough that most people stayed indoors, making his Saturday quest for money that bit more difficult.

He was happy when Monday morning dawned, happy to see Danny waiting outside the school gates and even happy when Danny took one look at him and handed over a bag of chips and waited and glared until he'd finished them.

"What's next," he asked lightly, when he was done.

Danny shrugged. "Wait and see. He might have - "

" - I doubt it." Rusty shook his head. Didn't seem that likely that Norris had learnt anything.

With a nod Danny conceded. They had more.

* * *

They didn't see Norris till lunch when he walked up to them, followers noticeably absent, as they were in the middle of discussing ways that slow burning fuses on M80s might be used. He slammed his lunchbox down on the table next to them and leaned over Danny.

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you Ocean?" he hissed. "You think I don't know what you've been doing?"

"What have we been doing?" Danny asked a slight smile on his face. Rusty took the opportunity to slip the note from his pocket into Norris' lunchbox. He knew better than to ignore the slightest moment of distraction.

"Ha!" Norris waved a finger in Danny's face. "You hear that? You said 'we'. What, can't either of you think for yourselves?"

Danny looked surprised. "You know what thinking is?"

Norris' face turned red and Rusty glanced over to the side of the cafeteria. "Mr Kapp's looking this way," he warned.

"This isn't over," Norris snarled.

Rusty smiled. "No. It isn't," he agreed and for a second Norris actually looked nervous.

"We'll see you around," Danny assured him brightly, and they turned back to their lunches and didn't watch him walk away.

Danny sighed, after a couple of seconds. "You're right," he told Rusty. "He just doesn't learn." He glanced over and gave Buzz a meaningful look. Buzz grinned widely and got to his feet.

Rusty sighed and rubbed absently at his wrist. "How long do you want to keep this going for?" he asked.

There was a pause and when Rusty looked round Danny was staring at the bruises on his arm. He pulled his sleeve down quickly. Danny shook his head. "He can't be more stubborn than us."

Rusty nodded. That probably wasn't humanly possible.

There was a sudden commotion over to their side and they turned round to watch the show. Buzz was standing behind Norris, clutching a piece of paper in his hand. "What's this!" he yelled, gleefully, and everyone in the cafeteria turned to look. "Another little love note for Mrs Mercater?"

Norris looked confused but he made a leap for the note. Obviously he wasn't quite as much an idiot as he looked. "Give that here!"

Buzz took a step back and sniffed at the paper. "Perfumed!"

Rusty turned to Danny and raised an eyebrow. "Perfumed? Really?"

Danny grinned. "Splashed some of my mom's on it."

"Aw. It's from your mommy," Buzz crowed, staring at the note. "That's so sweet."

Norris' eyes widened and Rusty felt a little sorry for him. Just a little.

"Dearest Little Norrie," Buzz read and a titter of amusement spread through the listening crowd. Little Norrie was a name that was probably going to stick. "I hope you enjoy the lunch that I've made for you today. I made all your favourites and I made them with an extra special ingredient. Love. Please, please eat it all up so that you will grow up to be big and strong like your daddy. I will be missing you all day. Lots of love and kisses, your loving mommkins."

Rusty blinked at Danny. "You have a seriously warped imagination. You do know that, right?"

"Yeah," Danny agreed.

The laughter spread throughout the crowd. And when Norris glared at them, he looked more than a little uncertain.

* * *

Three days went by and Norris left them alone. Left _them _alone. But rumours had a way of spreading, and it wasn't as if there was no-one else in the school that was capable of putting two and two together, and they weren't absolutely surprised when Cameron came running up to them one lunchtime and demanded that they come save Brady from Norris Carrol.

Danny sighed and stood up. "What does he expect us to do?" he asked.

"Something! Anything!" Cameron pleaded, dancing from one foot to the other.

Rusty grinned. "Come on. Let's go do the voodoo that we do so well."

"Doesn't rhyme," Danny pointed out and they followed Cameron quickly.

There was a semicircle of people gathered around Norris and Brady. Rusty studied them quickly. He could see Mike and John and Alice and Johnny and Taggart and Vanessa and others he vaguely knew. And they were uneasy. Unhappy. And they all liked him and Danny better than they liked Norris. Now was a better time than most, and he nodded at Danny. Show time.

They pushed through the crowd. Norris had Brady cornered and was screaming. "What did you call me?"

Brady looked terrified, and still managed to sound defiant when he choked out "Norrie. I called you Norrie."

Huh. Rusty was seriously impressed. He grinned reasuringly at Brady over Norris' shoulder and walked to take up his position on Norris' right. "Think he called you Norrie, Norrie."

Danny smiled at him from Norris' left. "Norrie Norrie?"

"So annoying they named him twice," Rusty nodded.

"You stay out of this," Norris snarled.

They ignored him.

"Morning, Brady," Danny said lazily. "How are you today?"

Brady stole a glance at Norris. "Been better," he stammered, bravely.

Rusty nodded. "That's - "

" - oh, a real shame," Danny agreed.

"He took my lunch money," Brady said, suddenly.

Danny smiled and walked past Norris to stand next to Rusty. He held up a wallet.

"Hey, that's mine!" Norris was openmouthed and checking his pockets.

"Of course it is," Rusty agreed, walking past on Norris' other side, and Norris spun round to check on him.

Danny threw the wallet over Norris' head and Rusty caught it and turned to face Brady. "How much?"

"Eighty cents," Brady said, wide-eyed, and Rusty rifled through the wallet and gave him his money back.

He paused with the wallet in his hands and shook his head sadly at Norris. "Honestly, didn't you learn from last time?" He pulled a picture of Mrs Mercater out of Norris' wallet and passed it round the crowd.

Danny sighed sympathetically. "She just doesn't like you that way, Norrie."

"Puppy love," Rusty added. He'd heard someone on TV say it the other week.

"That's not mine!" Norris blustered.

Danny shrugged. "It was in your wallet."

"Here," Rusty said helpfully, and stepped forwards and replaced the wallet in Norris' jacket pocket, accidentally knocking out a little doll in the process. "Ooops."

"I've never seen that before!" Norris claimed, wild-eyed. And to be fair he was telling the truth; Danny had planted it when he lifted the wallet.

"It's so cute!" Alice exclaimed, picking it up. "It's eyes move and everything! Norrie, where did you get it!"

"It's not mine!" Norris howled, taking a step towards her, and immediately Danny and Rusty were standing in his way.

"You don't - "

" - get to - "

" - do that," they said quietly and Norris blanched.

"I wasn't going to . . . " he protested weakly.

"Keep it that way," Danny told him.

He stared at them, desparation in his eyes. "_What do you want_," he whispered.

They looked at each other for a long moment. "We don't like bullies," Danny said eventually.

Norris shook his head. "I'm not a - "

" - yes. You are," Rusty's voice was hard. "You're going to leave us alone."

"You're going to leave everyone alone," Danny expanded.

Rusty nodded. "Or else - "

" - every last little dirty secret - "

" - every embarassing thought you ever have - "

" - is going to be public property."

Their voices wound together, and Norris looked from one to the other, clearly unnerved, clearly defeated. He nodded quickly and brushed past them, brushed past the other kids and vanished.

Rusty looked at Danny and there was relief and there was happiness.

That could have gone so wrong so very, very easily.

* * *

His head was on the counter at Mabel's and Danny's voice washed over him.

"If he'd fought, we would have lost. "

Yeah.

"He's bigger than you. He's bigger than me."

Yeah. He was.

"All he had to do was . . . " Danny trailed off. "If he'd been just a little less concerned about what people think . . . "

If he'd been able to believe that they could risk everything and not mind losing.

"You think we could solve anything else that way?" Danny mused. "I mean, lots of people care what people think. Right?"

He didn't say anything. Didn't even move.

"Yeah," Danny sighed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"It's getting dark," he said vacantly. "I'll have to go home soon,"

Danny sighed again. "Yeah."

There was silence.

* * *

**Sigh. Hope you enjoyed?**


	21. Two stories with some understanding

**This is not what I was supposed to write next. It isn't even the chapter of 'More things change' I was intending to write next. It jumped into my head earlier in the week, ambushing me. Hope you enjoy it regardless.**

**InSilva has already read it and was, as always, helpful and reassuring and generally wonderful. Can't thank her enough. And apparently aren't going to try. **

**Oh, also? I swear my chapters are getting longer. Sorry 'bout that.**

**Timeline! Yay!**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**4. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**5. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**6. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**8. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**9. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**10. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**12. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**13. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**14. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**15. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**16. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**17. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**18. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen.**

* * *

It was ridiculous, Patricia decided. Completely ridiculous. It had been three days. Just three days! That was no time at all and she _knew_ it. Gina was right. Lucy was right. She was being silly and she was overreacting. There was no need for her to be miserable, just because she hadn't seen Danny for three days. She stared down at the book in front of her and tried to focus. The project was due at the end of the month, after all.

Except it wasn't just that she missed him. Danny was sick, and she hadn't seen him for three days. It had started off with a head cold and a sore throat that had, as Rusty had earnestly assured him, made him sound like Donald Duck. And it hadn't got better. Not all week, and on Friday, Rusty had apparently had more than enough and had dragged him to the doctor who had diagnosed the flu and had prescribed bed rest and lots of it. And the last time Patricia had seen him had been the Thursday night, when he'd fallen asleep the moment she'd left the room to make him a hot drink. She'd smiled and kissed him and covered him with the blanket and pretended she didn't hear when he sleepily thanked someone else. Since then, every time she went round to his house, Danny's mom had refused to let her in. And she'd gone as soon as Rusty told her on Friday, and three times on Saturday, twice on Sunday and immediately after school today. She wasn't _fussing_. She wasn't getting a chance to; every time she rang the bell, Danny's mom was there, scowling and saying that Danny was sleeping and too sick for visitors. And that was reasonable, of course it was. She'd never put her loneliness over Danny's health. It was just that she couldn't help but wonder if _Danny_ might not be lonely. And she wondered if Danny's mom was letting Rusty in. Somehow, she doubted it. From everything she'd seen, and everything Danny had inadvertently let slip, she really doubted it. She sighed; it wasn't fair. None of it was.

The librarian walked round the corner, scowling and pointedly turning off the lights. Patricia blinked; it couldn't be eight already? She checked. It was. So much for getting all her research done. She closed the book, put it back on the shelf, with an apologetic smile at the librarian, and walked out the library. The door was immediately locked behind her. Ah. It was like that.

She slowed at the top of the steps, squinting into the dusk. There was a figure, half slumped over, sitting on the bottom step. And there was no sign of her dad's car. She hated waiting at night. Nervous, she bit her lip and glanced back at the building over her shoulder. Nearly all the lights were out now. There was no help there. Keeping a wide berth, she walked down the rest of the steps, glancing sideways all the time, watching and scared.

Of all things, it was the red sneakers that she suddenly recognised. She dashed over and dropped to her knees beside him. "Rusty?" She was afraid to shake him. Afraid to move him without knowing what was going on. "Rusty!"

"Patricia?" He sounded confused. He sounded like the child he wasn't. But he looked up at her, blinking, and even in the darkness she could see he'd been attacked. Could see his face was swollen and purple and bloodied.

"Yes," she agreed, her voice shaking a little. "Stay there, I'm going to call an ambulance." She looked round, trying to think where the nearest payphone was.

He struggled, managing to sit up straight."What?" His hand went to his face. "Oh." He smiled at her, open and reassuring. "'S nothing. Was just waiting for Johnny or Brady or someone."

He sounded so definite. Like he thought she was overreacting. But his words were falling over each other and he was trembling so hard. "Are you sure?"

There was a pause and his voice seemed to come from far away. "Course." He smiled again. "I've had worse."

_'When?' _was on the tip of her tongue, but she choked the question back and tried to concentrate. "There's no-one else in the library, Rusty. I was the last out."

Rusty sighed and seemed to waver a little more into focus. "They said they were going to study after school. Guess they must have finished up early and gone home."

"Do you want to go there?" Maybe one of his friends could get him to hospital. She didn't know what else to do. But he was here and she was here, and he was hurt, and even if she was a different sort of person, even if that somehow didn't mean anything to her, he was _Danny's_. And that left her with a responsibility.

"No," he said immediately. "No, I don't."

That was one plan gone. "My dad's going to be here any moment," she suggested. "You could come to mine. My dad wouldn't mind." Her dad would be concerned and understanding and she knew he'd know the right thing to do, she just knew it.

He hesitated. She could see him hesitate. Please, please, please.

"Mom used to be a nurse," she added persuasively. "She could help you."

He shook his head slowly. "Thanks. No. I'll be all right. I'll head home in a bit."

She watched as he got to his feet and she saw how much effort it took and she saw that he was shaking and she knew it wasn't cold, and she stepped forwards, reached out a hand to help him, but he just looked at it and shook his head again.

It was obvious, for a few moments, that all he had the strength to do was stand there, clinging onto the wall for dear life.

"You need a doctor, Rusty," she said gently.

He shook his head but didn't answer. She didn't think he could.

"Please," she begged.

He looked up at her and his eyes were clouded. "Where's Danny?" he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat. She wished he was here. More than anything, she wished he was here. "Danny's sick, remember?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath and he stood a little taller and a little steadier. "Yeah. Sorry, Pat. Spaced out there for a minute." His voice wasn't shaking anymore and she thought it was real. He smiled. "He misses you."

"I miss him too," she said, almost absently, studying him, looking for answers, looking for who knew what.

"He's terrible at being sick," Rusty went on fondly. "Always thinks he's missing out on something. Don't tell him," he added abruptly.

She blinked. "What?"

"Don't tell him about this," Rusty explained. "He worries."

And she cringed, a little, at the reminder that there was a 'this', that there had always been a 'this' and that they weren't reckless and clever purely for their own amusement. "Don't you think he should?" she pointed out carefully. She'd seen how they were together. Long before Danny ever asked her out. They were wound up in each other in ways that no-one else could ever dream of understanding.

He smiled again, and his arms were wrapped round his chest and she could see him trembling. "Just need to sit down. Get a coffee, or something and I'll be fine. 'S not as bad as it looks. Nothing broken."

She swallowed. "Mabel's is just two blocks over. She'll be closing up now, but I'm sure she'd - "

" - no," he interrupted firmly. "She fusses. Almost as bad as Danny. There's a place round the corner that's open late. I can stay there till it gets dark enough."

Dark enough for what, she wondered. "Okay. I'll buy you a coffee."

He shook his head but didn't seem able to speak for a long moment."You should get home," he managed at last through clenched jaw.

There was a limit to how much nonsense she was prepared to put up with. "You think Danny would like it if I left you alone?" she shot, well aware that it was a low blow.

He smiled and just about managed to focus on her. "You think Danny would like it if you went gallivanting all over town with other boys?"

Other boys . . . it took her a moment. She grinned. "Oh, I think he'd trust you."

"Hope so," he said, wearily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes. After a couple of attempts he managed to get one out of the packet, and she could see how hard his hands were shaking as he struggled with the lighter.

She gently reached forwards and took it out of his hand and pretended she didn't see him tense. "If he wasn't sick, you'd be at his place right now, wouldn't you?" she asked, lighting his cigarette for him.

He nodded and inhaled gratefully. "He's supposed to rest. Not worry."

And that was ridiculous. It really was. "He is going to notice eventually you know. Unless you have super powers."

"I do," he said seriously. "I do have super powers."

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"Usual." He shrugged and his face stilled in a way that suggested he'd regretted it. He took a long drag and managed to speak again. "Walk down the wrong street, call the wrong person a chicken and see what happens."

"Uh huh." She let it go and turned round sharply at the sound of a car. Her dad's car, and she was overjoyed.

"Thanks, Pat," Rusty said quietly behind her.

She didn't understand what he was thanking her for, but there were more important things on her mind. "Just let me go talk to him, okay? He can give you a lift wherever you want." Actually, it would either be back to theirs or to the hospital. But she didn't think she should tell him that.

Her dad smiled at her and wound down the window when she knocked. "Dad! Listen, my . . ." She hesitated momentarily, unsure of exactly how to describe the relationship. 'My boyfriend's unofficial little brother' seemed slightly complicated. " . . my friend is hurt and he needs help so can we take him back to mom, or to hospital or something?"

He looked worried. "Of course. Where is he?"

"He's right there," she frowned, and she turned round.

Rusty was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Buzz hated Tuesdays mornings. Actually, Buzz just hated mornings generally. Or at least school mornings. The guys upstairs had had a party last night and the very last thing he needed was to find himself surrounded by hordes of screaming kids, fighting to get into school. He already had a hangover. This wasn't helping.

He tried glaring down at a couple of the loudest ones and their terrified expressions made him happy. He loved having a reputation and the balls to back it up. Wasn't like any of the munchkins knew that he'd never lay a finger on them. Say what you like; he wasn't like that. Unfortunately he was so busy being intimidating that he wasn't paying close enough attention to where he was going, and he walked bang into another kid who'd stopped dead just in front of him. And he was about to open his mouth and give the little runt what for, when he recognised him and paused.

Rusty Ryan. Stood in the middle of the sidewalk, his head turned towards the main entrance. Not even noticing that Buzz had just fallen over him. Well, that couldn't be good.

It was always odd to see him on his own. Buzz must have seen him alone a thousand times, but somehow, when he thought about Rusty Ryan, he thought about Danny Ocean. And he'd known Rusty _longer_ – they'd lived all their lives in the same neighbourhood after all, and he could remember his older sister bringing home an unattended blond toddler and feeding him candy while Buzz and Chip taught him to swear - and he knew Ocean _better_ – they had a couple of the same classes and they'd hung out a bit when they were kids and for those bewildering weeks, a few years back, when Ocean and Rusty had had that mysterious falling out – but still, he found himself thinking of them in the same breath. Just seemed like they'd always been together. And Rusty was probably the only kid that age that Buzz would recognise. Certainly the only one he liked, let alone admired.

Curiously he glanced in the direction of the school; to where Rusty was looking. The only unusual thing _he _could see was Mr Wishart, standing on the steps, frowning in their direction.

"Rusty?" he called, confused, and Rusty looked round sharply and Buzz grimaced. The kid was beat to hell. Again. Wasn't like _that_ was anything new. Didn't mean that Buzz approved.

There was a second, and an unidentifiable look and then Rusty gave him what might have been described as an apologetic smile, and punched him in the jaw.

Buzz stared, only vaguely aware of the people around them stopping, forming into a circle, the steady chanting - _Fight, fight, fight, fight. _His hand went to his face. It didn't hurt. Not that he'd have expected a punch from a scrawny thirteen year old to hurt. But it really, _really_ hadn't. It had been done purely for the look of the thing. And he looked over Rusty's shoulder to Mr Wishart, heading towards them now, and he looked at Rusty's face, dark purple and swollen, and he shook his head. "No. Rusty, no."

There was that look again, and then Rusty grinned. "What's the matter, Buzz?" His voice was raised. Playing to the crowd. "Scared?" He stepped a little closer and whispered. "Please, Buzz. I need your help."

_'I_' need your help. Not words that you heard from either of them very often. They'd spoke in plurals as long as Buzz had known them. And that had been a long time. And they almost never needed help. But he couldn't do this. He really couldn't do this. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I can't."

Rusty punched him in the chest. Little harder than last time. Still not intended to hurt. "_Please_," he begged, desperation in his voice.

"Come on, Buzz! Kill him!" He glanced over to Norris Carrol and made a mental note to rip the bastard's head off at the first opportunity. So many people chanting for blood. Couldn't they see there'd been enough already?

Mr Wishart was running now, heading for the gate, and he looked at the pleading expression on Rusty's face and he hated himself. He clenched his fist and swung.

The 'fight' was short. And Buzz hated every punch.

* * *

They were sitting outside the office. Apparently the principal was busy and after a couple of scowls and a few disappointed looks they'd been left completely on their own. Told to think about what they'd done, like naughty children. And Buzz was angry and Rusty was just sitting there, swinging his legs and using the cold compress the nurse had given him to smear the trickle of blood from his mouth and eyebrow over his face, as authentically as possible.

Rusty had walked into the punch. _He'd walked into the punch._ Buzz had seen him do it. Had seen him watch and calculate and throw himself in front of Buzz's fist so that instead of the glancing blow that Buzz had meant it to be, it had split his lip all over again. Couple of seconds later he'd done the exact same thing again; re-opening the graze over his eyebrow.

With a start, he found himself choking back a laugh. Sure. Rusty had walked into his fist. It had been an accident. Hell, maybe he'd even had it coming. That was a good one. Simple fact was, he'd just beat up a skinny, battered, thirteen year old kid. Wasn't nothing was going to make that better.

"You okay?" Rusty asked, suddenly.

He gritted his teeth. "Fine. You?"

Rusty shrugged and smiled, painfully. "Been better."

"I'll bet," he muttered.

"Been a while since I was here," Rusty commented, idly.

"In daylight anyway. Right?" He knew damned well what they got up to. Hell, coupla months back, he and some guys had broken into the school themselves, just to mess about. They'd had a couple of bottles, couple of spray cans. Nothing really planned. And then the cops had shown up, and there'd been lights and sirens and he'd been panicking, already thinking about what he was going to tell his mom, and then, suddenly, Danny and Rusty - dressed all in black, silent and confident - had stepped out of the administration office and had quietly led them out and away from the cops. Then they'd been given a quick lesson on basic breaking and entering. Not using flashlights near windows. Not leaving doors obviously open. Always having another escape route planned. From anyone else it might have seemed patronising. From those two there had just been amusement and – what was that stupid phrase Chip always used? Oh yeah. Joie de vivre. That was them.

Rusty grinned and said nothing. Buzz watched him rubbing at his knuckles, trying to make them look a little more scraped.

"Stop that," he said, harshly.

There was a pause. "It'll look better if I look like I've hit you."

Buzz gritted his teeth. "You could have done that by actually hitting me." Not that he thought for a second that the kid could have done any damage. But it might have made _him_ feel a little better.

Rusty sighed and leaned forwards. "Look. They see me looking like this and not looking like I attacked you, they're going to paint a picture we don't want them to paint."

"Right." They would make him out to be the sort of guy who got his kicks out of beating on little children who couldn't hit back.

"I'm going to make sure you don't get in trouble," Rusty assured him. "We got a lot of witnesses that I started it."

"And they're going to take one look at you and think that I finished it," Buzz pointed out.

He was fixed with an appraising look. "It was my fault. You won't get into trouble."

"Right," he nodded. And the terrible thing was, he had no doubt that Rusty would be able to sit there, looking like he'd been hit by a truck, and convince the adults that it was all his own fault. And he had no doubt that Rusty would go on to convince the rest of the kids in school that the fight had been a fight, not an attack. Wasn't anyone that was going to think worse of Buzz for this except himself. (_And Ocean._) He sighed and glanced sideways. "You know they're going to suspend you for this, right?"

"Hoping to talk them down to a few detentions," Rusty said with a broad, innocent smile. As if butter wouldn't melt.

He wouldn't be surprised if the manipulative little bastard didn't manage it, either. But that didn't actually change the point. "They're going to want to talk to your dad."

Rusty nodded slowly, and the smile vanished and Buzz watched as he took a deep breath and he pretended not to notice when he winced and his arm wrapped tightly around his ribs. Had to leave the kid his pride.

His lips were dry. With a sudden thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his hip flask. He took a quick drink and, trying to act casual, he pushed it towards Rusty. "You want some?"

Rusty looked at him thoughtfully. "Thanks." He took a drink and took a long and shuddering breath and a couple of the lines of pain in his face seemed to vanish. "Thanks." He looked down at the flask. "It's nice."

"Was my grandpa's," Buzz told him. It was silver and about four times as old as he was. He always thought that was pretty amazing.

Silently, Rusty handed it back to him.

Buzz shook his head. "Nah. You look like you need it more than I do. Drink as much as you want, and give me the flask back at the end of the day." At the back of his mind, he realised that he was giving his most precious possession to a kid he knew to be light-fingered. But not trusting Rusty Ryan just didn't come naturally.

"Thanks," Rusty said again. He took another drink and the flask vanished into his jacket. Buzz could only hope it would help a little.

"Ocean still out sick?" he asked, acting casual, and then a horrible thought struck him. "He _is_ sick, right? He didn't fall down the stairs too?"

There was a quick look and he wondered if Rusty was considering lying. Making up some other reason for him to have a thousand bruises and a need to hide them. At this point that would be insulting. But Rusty sighed. "He's sick. I'm the clumsy one."

Buzz nodded and bit his lip. "You ever need a place to stay for the night . . . if you can't go to Ocean's for whatever reason." He shrugged. "No questions asked, you understand?" His mom had thrown his own father out nearly seven years ago now. But he could still remember what it was like. The yelling. The fear. He'd walked into a lot of doors, back then.

Rusty hesitated. "You're not going to . . . " he trailed off, nervously.

And Buzz had agreed to help him. He wasn't going to hit the kid and then turn round and point out that some other asshole had done it first. That would only make things worse. "I beat you up. No-one else."

Rusty smiled at him, bright and relieved. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"Don't." Buzz could feel something twist inside him and he snarled at the look of puzzlement Rusty shot him. "You ever say that again – you ever _think _that again_ –_ I'll take it out on Ocean. He'll be eating through a straw for a month. You understand me?"

There was a long moment. Rusty stared at him, and he watched as the first, instinctive spark of anger and protectiveness faded to understanding and almost-apology.

* * *

Patricia had not had a good day. There'd been far too much on her mind, and everyone had just dismissed it as more of her missing Danny. Which she was. It just wasn't the only thing on her mind.

She and her dad had searched the streets surrounding the library for nearly half an hour last night before she admitted that Rusty had gone. And she hadn't known where he lived. Seemed as though there'd been nothing she could do, and she'd hated that feeling, and she'd wanted to run to Danny, to seek comfort, to ask for help, just to tell him. It had taken Dad a long time to convince her that she was overreacting. And she knew that he was beginning to feel that she was a little too serious about Danny.

Maybe she was. But she'd never met anyone like him. Never known anyone so thoughtful, so magical. And even though it made her feel like a silly little girl, she could imagine spending the rest of her life with him. Sometimes she dreamt about the future. Dreamt about her and Danny staying together. Going to the same college. Somewhere close enough that Rusty could come over on weekends. Until he got old enough to come too, and then, maybe, they'd all live in the same house. Danny would like that. They'd be happy. There'd be no danger, nothing to be afraid of. No reason for them to think of anything other than growing up and being the very best they could.

Sometimes she thought about telling Danny about her dream. She didn't even understand why she hadn't; she knew he wouldn't laugh. Maybe it would even make him smile. But she didn't know what Danny dreamed of.

She sighed and walked out of the empty classroom. Mr Fuller had let her stay late to work on a presentation. Well, he hadn't exactly let her. More like he hadn't said that she couldn't. And she was just thinking how strange it was to be standing in the school, knowing it was practically empty, when she heard something. Coming from downstairs. Yelling and what sounded like a scuffle. Eyes wide, she ran towards the noise.

Mr Ontaro was dragging someone down the corridor. Was dragging Rusty down the corridor. "You think I don't know it was you? What, do you think I'm an idiot? There's no-one else here and _someone_ was in the office."

He had his hand clasped firmly round Rusty's arm. And Patricia could see Rusty's face and it frightened her. She called out before she stepped into the corridor. Before they knew she'd seen them. "Rusty, did you find . . . " She stopped, immediately in front of them, and she could only hope that she was managing to look suitably shocked and confused. "What's going on?"

Mr Ontaro glared at her, uncomfortably. "Miss Holmes, this doesn't concern you." He'd stopped though, and hastily let go of Rusty's arm. And he seemed to be thinking about what he was doing. Which was good.

"What did you do?" she asked Rusty, her eyes wide. "You were only away for a minute."

A pause, and she could feel Mr Ontaro staring at her, but she didn't dare look, because she knew he would see through her in a second. But she hardly ever lied. And she'd never been caught. And she had a reputation as a good girl, and please, please, let it count for something.

There was a flicker of appreciation in Rusty's eyes. "I don't know!" he whispered loudly. "I was just heading for the drinking fountain when I heard someone run past, and then someone else grabbed me and I thought maybe Buzz was mad about this morning, but it was Mr Ontaro."

"Well, why didn't you speak up, you stupid child!" Mr Ontaro sounded angry, but Patricia could see the embarrassment he was trying to hide.

Rusty stepped back hastily and looked down at the floor. "Sorry, sir" he said, quiet and ashamed, and Patricia knew he was a good liar.

"Miss Holmes, you say that Mr Ryan was with you?"

She nodded determinedly. "Yes, Mr Ontaro, he was. He was helping me with a list of his classmates who might be open to the possibility of a campaign for nuclear disarmament. Incidentally, did you know that - "

" - yes, that's quite enough, Miss Holmes. You know that the school board disapproves of attempts to politicise your fellow students." He frowned at her and she bit her lip, terrified she would giggle. Fortunately, he seemed to assume she was contrite. "Mr Ryan, you said that you heard someone run past you?"

Rusty didn't look up. "Yes sir. I did sir. But I didn't see who it was."

Mr Ontaro scowled. "Look at people when they're talking to you boy," he said severely, and he stepped forwards, his hand extended as if to wrench Rusty's head up.

Patricia swallowed hard as Rusty flinched back and threw his arm up to protect his face. Mr Ontaro backed off immediately. And she could see the discomfort on the teacher's face, and she didn't understand when he immediately started stuttering out his excuses.

"I need to . . .that is, I should . . ." He paused. "Which way did he run?"

Rusty pointed down the corridor silently

Mr Ontaro left.

There was a long silence and then Rusty smiled at her. "Want to get out of here?"

She nodded. "Sure."

They walked down the stairs, as far away from Mr Ontaro as they could get. Patricia looked sideways at him, wondering.

He sighed. "What?"

"I was wondering why he left like that?" If she'd seen . . . if she'd frightened someone like that, she'd have wanted . . . she didn't know. But she wouldn't have ran.

Rusty didn't look at her. "He's angling for another job. Private school. Better money. Last thing he wants to deal with right now is anything complicated. And now, now he thinks I'm complicated."

She bit at her lip. "Are you?"

"No." He grinned. "I'm pretty straightforward."

"So that was . . . I mean, you weren't . . ." She didn't know how to ask.

"I lie a lot, Pat," he told her gently and even if that wasn't exactly an answer, she had to accept that.

"Do you need to go back to the office?" she asked, wondering if he'd finished whatever he'd been doing.

He shook his head. "Nah. It's done. Was fixing some detentions."

And that was something else that had been bothering her. "You got detention for being beaten up by Buzz this morning?"

He hesitated. "Something like that."

"That's completely unfair!" she exploded. "He's four years older than you! He should be suspended at least. The police should be involved. I mean, I always thought he was one of the good guys!"

Rusty had stopped walking. He stared at her, and for the first time she could remember it was less than friendly. "Buzz _is_ one of the good guys. I started that fight, Pat. It was my fault. And I was getting him out of detention, not me."

"Why?" It was all she could ask.

"Can't tell you." His gaze was level and direct and of course he couldn't. "But it really wasn't him. And you can tell that to anyone who asks."

She nodded and wondered what Danny would say.

They started walking again. "Thanks for the alibi. You didn't have to do that."

"Oh." She blinked. "Do you know, I didn't even think? I mean, I knew you'd have done whatever he said you'd done. Suppose I just didn't want you in trouble anyway."

He looked at her for a long moment and smiled. "I'm going to see Danny. Want to come with?"

"His mom let's you in?" She felt a strange stab of jealousy. "She won't let me in."

"I don't ask permission," he explained, with a hint of dark amusement. "Oh, I need to pick up a few things for him first."

"Rusty . . . " She trailed off, wondering how she could explain that she didn't mind what they got up to, and probably she'd always be willing to jump in to get either of them out of trouble, but somehow, there were some things that she wasn't prepared to stand and watch.

Rusty shot a puzzled frown at her and then suddenly seemed to get it. He laughed. "Don't worry," he assured her. "I was planning on paying."

* * *

It had taken a while to persuade Rusty to stop in the café. Despite the fact that he was looking tired, and was obviously in pain, in the end she'd claimed that she needed to sit down. And she got that he wanted to get to Danny's as soon as possible – had got that from the way that they'd practically ran through shops, buying books and magazines and video tapes and medicine and food, and she'd wondered whether he was working off a list or just guessing at what Danny would want. And of course, she wanted to see Danny too, it was just that she thought that Danny would be more pleased to see them if Rusty didn't look like he was on the brink of passing out. Besides. Any time there was shopping involved, she ended up really needing a coffee.

She watched Rusty press his glass against his face and couldn't help but ask. "What happened?"

He set the glass down and looked at her evenly. "Lot's of things happen. What do you mean?"

"Last night," she said, patiently. "What happened last night?"

"Oh." He shrugged painfully. "I told you. I got jumped by a group of guys who didn't like me very much."

She knew that wasn't true. She'd always known that wasn't true. And she knew he didn't owe her the truth, but she'd been so scared last night, she was so scared now, and she'd lied for him. "What would Danny say if I asked him?"

"Don't ask him," Rusty said, quickly and intensely and that stung.

"Are you worried he wouldn't lie for you or that he'd lie to me?" She knew it was unfair. She asked anyway.

Rusty sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, when he looked at her, he looked so much older than his years. So much older than her. "Either would hurt him. You know that. Don't ask him."

She stared at him for a long moment, and for a second, before she pushed all thought of it away firmly, it occurred to her that if he was a few years older, she'd be facing an impossible choice. Impulsively she reached across the table and took his hand. "I could never take him away from you. Even if I wanted to. I _couldn't._ You know that, right?"

"Sure." He gently took his hand away.

She frowned. "What?"

He sighed and smiled sadly at her. "Everything ends, Pat. Nothing is forever. People change and grow up. And Danny is meant for better things than . . . " He waved a hand, and she didn't know if he meant their school, their town or the world. "Danny deserves better."

She couldn't believe it, and she thought about the way that Danny smiled when he said Rusty's name, and the fact that Rusty had just casually spent more money than she'd expect to see in a month on Danny. To make Danny happy. "You think he'd - "

" - you think I'd stand in his way?" he asked, and she realised that he didn't expect her to understand. And he wasn't going to explain.

* * *

She stared up at the tree, apprehensively. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked.

Rusty smiled at her, and he could stop being so amused, for a start. "Course it is. It's easy. Done it a hundred times before."

Honestly, she couldn't help but look at him doubtfully. But she was willing to give it a try. "You first," she decided.

"Might be easier if you went first," he said thoughtfully, squinting up at the tree. "Be easier for me to help you that way."

She nodded patiently. "I'm wearing a skirt, Rusty."

"I'll go first," he said immediately.

"Thank you." She shook her head and grinned.

She watched him carefully. Saw where he put his hands and tried her best to imitate him. And, sure, once upon a time she'd climbed trees with her brothers. But that had been a long time ago. The best she could say now was that she didn't actually fall down. It was all definitely less than dignified. But there was Danny, and it was worth it.

Rusty got the window open somehow; she couldn't see the details and scrambled inside. "Brought you something," he called out cheerfully.

There was a brief coughing fit in reply and then she heard Danny croak out "Unless it's a shotgun, I'm not interested."

She followed Rusty in through the window. "I could go away if you like," she offered with a smile.

Danny had been lying on the sofa, facing the TV which was showing something she didn't recognise, but people with unlikely haircuts were staring intently at each other, so it was a fair bet it was a soap of some kind. As soon as he heard her voice he sat up, and the smile on his face almost made her blush. "Hi." Probably unconsciously he made an effort to straighten his hair. Since he looked flushed and sick, it was probably a wasted effort, but she appreciated the sentiment. "How was . . . "

He trailed off. And his eyes were hard and his mouth was angry, and he wasn't looking at _her_ anymore.

"You look better than you did yesterday," Rusty said brightly after the slightest pause.

"You don't," Danny said levelly.

Rusty shrugged. "Can't all be handsome."

"Rus'", Danny sighed, and he made as if to stand up which sparked another coughing fit.

She started forwards, but Rusty was already there, and he produced a glass of water from nowhere and knelt in front of Danny and helped him drink it.

"Thanks," Danny said, and he was still staring at Rusty's face.

"Got stupid," Rusty's voice was quiet and she didn't think it was for her ears. She wished she could leave them alone; seemed as though they needed it. "It's okay. Really, it is."

Danny made an abortive movement, as though he'd been reaching out to touch Rusty's face, but he glanced over at her and dropped his hand. (_And she wished...) _He looked at both of them and smiled. "So. What did you bring me?"

"Everything," Patricia groaned, pointing at the overflowing backpack Rusty had dropped on the floor.

"Chicken soup, tissues, more medicine - "

" - thanks," Danny interrupted. "Down to my last - "

" - I know," Rusty told him. "Oranges, ginger ale, soda crackers and more juice."

Danny made a face.

"It's all good for you," Patricia pointed out.

"That's what _he_ says," Danny complained. "Pretty sure it's just old wives' tales."

Rusty shrugged. "Well, Mabel was the one who told me. You want to tell her she's wrong, go ahead."

Danny nodded and smiled. "I'll pass. What else?"

"Couple of magazines, your homework if you get really bored, my homework if you get even boreder - "

" - more bored - " Patricia interjected automatically.

" - chocolate, popcorn and movies."

Danny pursed his lips. "Okay. Guess you can stay."

"Thanks." Rusty rolled his eyes. "Because listening to you cough and sneeze is just the highlight of my day." Immediately Danny did sneeze and Rusty pulled the tissues out of the backpack. "Here," he said gently. "You do look better."

"I feel better," Danny told him. "It's just that 'better' still feels like I should have been buried a week ago." He paused. "You taken painkillers?"

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "I told you. It's okay. Just bruises. Inside and out."

There was silence, and Patricia held her breath, somehow reluctant to break the moment.

Rusty stood up. "I'm going to go reheat the soup."

"Richard is here," Danny said immediately, and Rusty hesitated.

"I'll be careful," he promised, eventually.

"Yeah," Danny nodded.

She knew that Richard was Danny's mom's 'special friend', and she knew Danny didn't like him, and neither did Rusty. And that, after all, was perfectly normal and perfectly understandable. Right up to the point where she'd swear that he frightened them. Just a little. But that was a little more than she was comfortable with.

The door closed behind Rusty and she walked round the sofa and bent down to kiss Danny.

"Careful," he warned her, reluctantly. "You don't want to catch - "

" - I don't care," she told him fiercely. "I've missed you."

She held him close and kissed him tenderly and this was what she wanted.

Danny smiled at her, as she snuggled up next to him on the sofa. "I missed you too."

"I've been by," she said quickly. "Your mom said you needed to rest."

"You came to visit?" he looked gratified. "She didn't mention."

She tried to look at least a little surprised. "I suppose it slipped her mind," she offered.

Danny grinned and kissed her quickly. "Right," he said, voice full of irony.

"Is she going to be very angry if she finds me and Rusty here?" she asked slowly.

"Don't much care," Danny shrugged. "But she won't. She comes in to check on me a few times a day. Rusty was here from Friday till Monday morning, and he just hid in the bathroom and she didn't notice."

Right. She'd probably have a few words to describe exactly how insane that was. But she kept her mouth shut.

"So, how have you been?" Danny smiled. "Been seeing any other boys while I've been away?"

She grinned. "Just the one," she said, making herself comfortable against his arm.

"Really?" he asked and she loved the amused self-confidence in his voice, loved that they were playing, that the insecurity that other girls talked about in their boyfriends was just nowhere in his mind.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "He's handsome and funny and smarter than you. And you know how I feel about blonds."

"Right." Danny laughed. "Trying to make me jealous of my best friend?"

She smiled and wondered if she should tell him about the library and how vulnerable he'd seemed, and how frightened she'd been. She wondered if she should tell him about Mr Ontaro, and the look on Rusty's face, and the horrible moment when he'd flinched. She wondered if she should tell him about Rusty's conviction that _they_ weren't forever. She wondered if there was anything she could tell him that he didn't already know. "Can't be done," she said simply, and held his hand.

Rusty came in a few moments later, holding a mug of soup. He'd knocked first, and Danny had rolled his eyes.

"What movies did you get?" Danny asked, when they were all comfortably curled up on the sofa, ensconced in blankets, surrounded by chocolate and, in Danny's case, tissues.

"'Carrie', 'A Star is Born' and 'One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest'," Rusty said, stretching with a wince.

Danny stared at him. "What, were you just not feeling happy?"

Rusty grinned.

"What else did you get?" Danny asked, with a knowing smile.

"'Young Frankenstein', 'Some Like it Hot' and 'You Only Live Twice'," Rusty admitted happily.

"'James Bond," Danny requested immediately.

Patricia shook her head, severely. "Honestly. Boys. Offer them art and they want car chases."

"What?" Danny demanded, mock-outrage in his voice. "I'm sick. I get to choose Connery over Nicholson."

"Besides," Rusty added with a smile. "There's a gyrocopter chase, too."

She rolled her eyes and prepared to settle in and enjoy the movie.

Danny fell asleep five minutes into 'Some Like it Hot', holding her hand, his head on Rusty's shoulder.

Rusty smiled at her over Danny's head. "I'll wake him up in time for Marilyn." She threw a handful of popcorn at him, and he laughed and dodged.

Danny was sick and Rusty was hurt and she was sure she shouldn't feel this happy.

* * *

It was Thursday when Buzz walked out of shop class in time to see Ocean standing at the bottom of the stairs, cigarette in his hand, expression of quiet death on his face.

He nodded to the guys to go ahead without him and slowed to stand in front of Ocean, who fixed him with a long, calm stare, dropped his cigarette and ground it beneath his heel, and turned and led Buzz out of the building.

Buzz followed without hesitation. Some things were owed.

"Glad to see you feeling better," he said to Ocean, when they finally stopped.

Ocean nodded. His hands were in his pockets, and he still didn't speak, and Buzz felt a spark of curiosity. Because if it had been him, he'd have started off by pounding the guy into the dust. And he hadn't been sure what Ocean would do, but he'd thought that it would probably make _his_ way look merciful. This, he didn't understand at all. After all, he had no doubt at all that the moment Ocean set foot in the school there had been twenty people surrounding him, desperate to tell about the fight. That was just the way it worked, and it was Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan. Wasn't like he'd been expecting to be forgiven.

And he thought, not for the first time, about his older brother Chip. His geeky older brother. Two years older, one foot shorter and a thousand miles smarter. He thought about when they were young, and Chip hiding him under the bed and taking his punishment. He thought about when Max Durham had smashed Chip's science project and Buzz had smashed Max's nose in return. He thought about when Chip had spent all evening fixing Buzz's radio instead of doing his homework, because he knew Buzz hated to sleep in silence. He thought about last month, when he'd sold his car to give Chip a little help with his tuition. It was about what was important.

He did understand. And if Ocean wanted to smack the shit out of him, he wasn't going to put up any more than a token fight. He had it coming.

Ocean was still looking at him. "He told me," he said quietly. "He told me he asked you to."

Buzz was honestly surprised. He'd have thought that Rusty would have wanted to keep it as quiet as possible. "Oh," was all he managed to say.

Ocean laughed. "Think he thought if he explained it first I wouldn't want to kill you."

"And you do," Buzz said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Ocean nodded. "I really do." He turned away sharply. "You hit him. Do you have any idea . . . " He shook his head slowly and spun back to face Buzz. "I should pay you back the same way. You _hit_ him."

Buzz braced himself. He already knew that Ocean could hit hard, when he wanted to.

But Ocean just looked at him and shook his head. "I told him I wouldn't. Not this way and not any other way either."

"Oh," Buzz said stupidly. He wondered why it meant anything. If it was him and Chip, he wouldn't let anything stop him from punishing anyone responsible.

"And I don't lie to him," Ocean continued. "Ever. So you're safe."

That wasn't fair. That wasn't . . . it wasn't right.

Ocean was still looking at him. "Don't ever do it again." He smiled, widely. "I'll be watching you."

Buzz watched Danny walk away and wondered how much he really understood.

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	22. Words and Silence

**A/N: I give up! Once again, I talk about what chapters I'm writing next, and what happens? Some new idea comes along and insists on being written first.**

**A/N2: I asked InSilva if she had any ideas about a two-edged epitaph for Luke, and once again she came up with wonders. As always, thank you.  
**

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**4. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**5. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**6. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**8. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**9. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**10. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**12. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thireen, Danny is sixteen**

**13. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**14. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**15. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**16. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**17. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**18. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**19. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

* * *

Danny sank down onto the ground and looked at the headstone, almost nervously. It was too dark to make out the lettering; not that he had to. Might as well be engraved on his brain.

_Luke Ocean. _

_24th February 1934 - 16th November 1978_

_Husband and Father_

_May you find the peace that you deserve_

"Hi Dad," he said quietly and winced. His voice carried uncomfortably in the silent cemetery and he felt like an idiot. "So, it's been a year, huh? Well, it was a year yesterday. Sorry I didn't come by then. I wanted to. I _meant _to. I just . . stuff came up." The bitter smile strained his face. "Now I sound like you."

He took a long look round. "Sorry that it's so late too. Wanted some privacy. You know, the padlock on the gate was surprisingly easy. Guess we don't have many problems with body snatchers. Or the undead." He sighed, picturing the frown and the long string of explanations that would have followed that kind of comment a year ago. "You didn't know I could pick locks. Or maybe you do now." He considered. "Not like I'm thinking that you're out there, somewhere, looking down on me. And if you were out there somewhere, you wouldn't be watching _me_."

"This isn't me blaming you," he said, eyes downcast. "I'm not what you wanted. I know that. And I'm sorry. I should have tried harder. Should have been the son you wanted." He looked up sharply at the headstone. "But I could never figure out what you did want. And there are some things . . . " He shook his head and his thoughts trailed off.

"I brought flowers," he added awkwardly, after a second, and he laid them gently on the ground. "Don't know why. Not like I'd have ever given you flowers before, you know? Can't imagine what you'd have said if I did." He smiled. "The second bunch is for Emma. I would have given them to her direct, but I don't know where she's buried. Her family flew in and took her away and that's the last I heard about her. Not like I could ask Mom. Sorry." He paused. "There's a teddy bear too," he added in a rush. "It's for . . . I wanted to . . . and Rusty suggested . . . " He shrugged. "There's a teddy bear."

He studied the backs of his hands for a long moment. "You never told me. Were you going to? Did you know?" There was no one to hear. "Did you want _him_?" he finished in a whisper, and immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut, because even if there'd never be an answer, he hated that there was a question. "Sorry. Guess that's not my business."

"I didn't hate you," he said quietly. "I know I tell you that every time, but I really didn't. It's just . . . I could have been better. I accept that. I'm going to have to live with that. But couldn't you have done just a little more? I _never _wanted much from you, I swear it. Just one promise kept, Dad. That's all I ever wanted. Couldn't you have turned up to one parents' evening? Couldn't you have taken me golfing, or bowling, or anything you said? Couldn't you have listened to me, just once?"

He closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. Tried to stop shouting. "Couldn't you have supported me against Mom, just once, when she tried to get rid of Rusty? I know you didn't always agree with her. Remember when you took us fishing and we fell in slightly? You _saw. _And I saw your face. You think just because I was a kid I didn't understand what you were thinking? What you were feeling? He was nine years old. You knew it was wrong. You knew it."

"God, Dad, that was him after nearly a week of healing. You want to imagine what I saw? You want to imagine what I felt? He was nine years old. He was nine years old and I love him. You never taught me that."

He sighed and leaned back on his hands and stared up at the stars. "But you were nice in the restaurant, afterwards. When Rus' was looking for the cheapest thing on the menu. You insisted he got a proper meal. Stopped it from being awkward. Guess you understood more than I thought. And I never thanked you for that." He swallowed. "Thank you," he whispered, low and sincere.

"You did that, but you never stopped Mom from sneering. Never stopped her from chasing him home every time she was in a bad mood. Never stopped her from trying to split us up. Never said that Rusty could stay whenever he needed to. I mean, I know that you were never going to help us directly. You were never going to go to the police, or whatever, and tell them. And I don't understand that, but I can accept it, I guess. You had more important things in your life than us – me. I get that. But just in the house. Just in the family, where no-one else would see, or judge, or whatever. Couldn't you have supported us? Couldn't you have decided that my friend, my happiness, meant something?" _Didn't it mean something? _

"And last summer, when I was staying with you and Emma. When you took us to the zoo – and incidentally," he added with a frown. "Why the hell did you take us to the zoo? But when I was going to get Rusty. You asked me not to bring him unless he was presentable. You have any idea how much I wanted to make you say what you really meant?" He dropped his head back down and looked intently at the stone. "You wanted to make sure that Emma wasn't exposed to the real world, I know. You loved her and you wanted to protect her. But didn't me and Rus' deserve just a little bit of protection?"

Pondering for a moment, he scowled. "Well, we don't need protecting now. We don't need help. Because we're never going to get it."

"Rusty's waiting for me outside," he said, in a softer voice. "I was going to tell him I wanted some privacy, but he already understood. Just helped me carry the flowers round and settled down under the street lamp with a pack of cigarettes and a deck of cards. Really hoping no one comes by." He smiled. "Do you have any idea what it's like to not have to explain yourself? To be completely understood? To not have to put the difficult stuff into words? It's wonderful. Shouldn't keep him waiting too long. Though he said it was fine. Said I could take as long as I needed and he'd wait. He meant forever. Squeezed my hand and let me go."

He hesitated and his smile faded. "If you'd have seen that, would you have . . . . " He shook his head. "No. You wouldn't," he said, and his voice was decisive even as he felt unsure. Because he couldn't bear for it to be otherwise. "You were nothing like that _bastard._"

For a while he looked up at the stars. The wind picked up a little, and he shivered, and he was glad that he'd made Rusty take his gloves.

"Sometimes I'm glad that it never actually came to a divorce, you know that?" he said, absently, and quickly looked down, the shiver of horror in the pit of his stomach. "I don't mean I wanted you to . . . I _never_ wanted that. But Mom never wanted me either. We all know that. Guess when you split up, well, I just came with the house. And I don't know if I could have taken sitting in a courtroom while you guys argued over who had to take me."

"Oh, I know you loved me," he added quickly. "But at a distance, right? Sometimes I want to ask what I _did_." He laughed shortly. "Rusty says I didn't do anything. Believe me, there are reasons why that's funny."

He sighed and leaned forwards. "So, anyway, what's new? Think I told you that Mom split up with Richard. He hasn't been back. That's good. That's very good."

"What else? Oh yeah, science fair last month. I didn't enter, but we were running a book on it. Made quite a bit of money, too. Well, right up until the point where Julian's model biplane made a beeline for Mr. Costanza. Chased him right across the hall. It was all a little 'North by Northwest'. Right up to the point where he fell head first into Cameron's volcano. Then it was a little more 'East of Java'. Anyway, we had nothing to do with it. But we had to scrap the betting anyway. Wouldn't be fair."

He ran his hands through his hair and fidgeted angrily. "And that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. It's just that I don't want to talk to you about what I want to talk to you about. Not like you'd understand, even if you could hear me." He took a deep breath. "So I turned sixteen two weeks ago. I know you know that. You remembered last year. And I understood why you couldn't be at the party. Mom was organising it. Would have been awkward. I should have told you I understood. But you sent me a card and fifty dollars. I've still got it. And you phoned me too . . ." He was silent for a moment. "I really didn't hate you. I should never have said that."

"Anyway," he went on determinedly. "I didn't want any sort of fuss this year, so Mom just organised a party for the family. Hers, not yours. And she said I could invite anyone I wanted from school, but I just wanted Rusty. And it was okay. I was still thinking about you a lot, but it was okay. We coped."

"So, I was feeling almost good about life. And Mom got me enrolled in a Driver's Ed program, and I was excited about that, and I was doing really well. You might have been proud of me. Then, yesterday . . . "

He paused and stared down at the ground. "Yesterday. And I was trying not to think. Trying to forget about the date altogether. And I was out for a driving lesson with Mr. Grey, and . . . it was stupid. I just started feeling nervous, and he was talking about emergency stops and when to . . . and we passed by the turning for the freeway. _The_ freeway. Maybe a mile away. Maybe not. And I just . .. " He shook his head. "I think 'freaked out' is the phrase we're looking for here. Slammed on the brakes. Leapt out the car. Ran. Could hear Mr. Grey yelling behind me. Can't blame him. I could have . . . could have caused an accident. Could have killed someone. Someone's father."

"Anyway, I just ran and hid. Don't even know why, not really. Guess Mr. Grey told Mom. Guess she was worried. Really worried. She went round to Rusty's. To see if I was there, I guess, and to ask for help when I wasn't. Rusty found me. Rusty always finds me. Though I think maybe I wanted to be found this time. Because I wound up exactly where I was the last time I ran." He clenched his fists tightly. "Least I knew I hadn't actually hurt anyone this time."

"So Rus' found me." He frowned. "I wonder what you'd have made of that? You were never very comfortable with emotion. Rusty held me and I cried and _we're not wrong_. Think I scared him though. A lot. We talked afterwards. I talked. And he understood that I had to talk to you. But I couldn't face it then. Sorry."

"Mom was pissed when we went back to the house. Apparently Mr. Grey had been talking. She got phone calls. She hates those phone calls. She was yelling. Demanding to know what I'd been thinking. I couldn't explain. Really couldn't. I wanted to, and I just couldn't find the words. And she was yelling. Rusty stepped in front of me, and you can't imagine how much I hated that. But he got her calmed down. Explained everything. She listens to him sometimes, you know. She knows he knows me better. Think that's part of the reason why she hates him."

He smiled wonderingly. "You know what though? She was really great about it. When she understood. When she stopped yelling. She hugged me, which was . . . nice. Least she tries. And she said that I didn't have to learn to drive right now, if I didn't want to. She said it could wait. And she ordered us pizza and just assumed Rusty was staying over, and she even made us popcorn and she gave me money for today, told me we should do whatever I wanted."

He stood up slowly and his legs were a little stiff. "So, I guess I just wanted to tell you. I still miss you. It hurts. And I'm sorry." He glanced over his shoulder, towards the gate. "Got to go now. Rusty's waiting."

For a moment, he bowed his head and he thought of a careful smile and an easy laugh, of shiny shoes and the smell of cologne, of learning to ride a bike and being told once and for all that it wasn't his fault. He smiled and wiped away his tears. "Goodnight, Dad."

* * *

**What did you think? I'm interested.**


	23. Matilda and the Werewolf

**Author's apologies: Okay. Three things. First of all, this chapter is . . . a little dark and a little unpleasant. There is a lot of violence and I hate it. Second of all this chapter is long even by my admittedly flexible standards. Sorry, it really didn't want to be split. Thirdly, in this book Roald Dahl's wonderful book 'Matilda' is quoted from fairly extensively. (Which, incidentally I do not own and use entirely without permission.) It was the book I was thinking of when I first came up with this chapter, a very long time ago, and, if asked, I would have sworn before judge, jury and Anne Robinson that it was one of his earlier ones. It isn't. It was in fact published in 1988 which is clearly far too late for it to be read by Danny and Rusty as children. So I can only apologise for the anachronism and pretend that we live in a world where Roald Dahl wrote it, oh, fifteen years earlier shall we say? Sorry. I really do try to keep things time appropriate, but in this case choosing another book would have involved altering many things I had no wish to alter. Anyway. Those are my three public apologies for today. **

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**10. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**11. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**12. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**13. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thireen, Danny is sixteen**

**14. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**15. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**16. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**17. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**18. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**19. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**20. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

* * *

The graveyard was bathed in the silvery light of the full moon. The old, creaky trees were casting twisted shadows across the headstones. The wind was howling incessantly - or at least _something_ was. And the woman crept across the screen, agonisingly slowly, and her flashlight was gradually going out and every so often she jumped – flinched – and looked round wildly, as though she'd heard something someplace he couldn't see. And Danny was almost certain that he was safe, curled up on the sofa, cushion hugged to his chest, but he still didn't quite have the nerve to turn off the movie and go to bed. Because there might be something lurking in the shadows, just waiting for him to put his feet on the floor . . .

A floorboard creaked upstairs and he jumped and immediately scolded himself. It was fine. There was no-one in the house except him. And if he was half as clever as he pretended, he would have gone to bed early, instead of staying up to watch the late night horror movie. But he'd wanted to wait up for his mom coming in, and by the time she'd phoned and told him that she'd be working all night and wouldn't be back till late tomorrow, he'd already been engrossed in the movie. He didn't mind that she wasn't coming back tonight. It wasn't like he was some baby who had to have his mommy hug and kiss him goodnight. He was eleven, and more than capable of managing on his own for a night. Hell, half the time he was asleep before she came back anyway. And she'd probably forgotten that Dad was still away on that business trip to D.C. Just like Dad forgot that he'd promised to take him bowling that weekend. He set his mouth firmly and reminded himself – not for the first time – that, really, he was lucky. At least his parents weren't . . . there were always ways that things could be worse.

He turned his attention back to the screen and watched, wide-eyed and horror-struck, as the _thing_ with the tangled, matted fur, and the blood staining its snout, made its first appearance and stalked silently after the woman, flitting from shadow to shadow, impossibly fast. Its paw, or hand, or whatever, reached out towards her throat while she just stood and screamed and the claws were gleaming in the moonlight, and Danny's heart was in his mouth and when the soft knocking came at the door he nearly leapt out of his skin.

Leaping off the couch, he turned the TV off, and stood by the living room door and clutched tighter at the pillow and chewed on his lip and waited in dreadful silence until the knocking came again, even fainter than before. Okay. There were four things he had to remember. If he could just keep this in his head, he'd be fine. First of all, werewolves didn't tend to knock on doors. Second, even if they did, they'd probably do it louder. Third, werewolves didn't actually exist. And finally, and most importantly, there was a silver letter opener on the rack in the hall.

He dropped the cushion onto the floor and padded noiselessly out into the hall. Difficult to imagine who'd be at the door at this time of night. Perhaps the sensible thing to do would be to ignore it altogether. But the problem with that was that it was difficult to imagine who'd be at the door at this time of night. As he walked past his hand closed over the silver letter opener. It was sharp enough. And better to be safe than sorry.

The knocking came again, and this time it sounded more like fingernails scratching on wood. And that did nothing to reassure him.

With a deep breath, and the little knife firmly in his hand, Danny wrenched the door open. He barely had time to register the smile and the blood and the pain, before Rusty fell forwards towards him.

* * *

_He is as warm and comfortable as he can hope to be. It is summer and still there's a draught in his room and he's wrapped as much of himself in the blanket as he can. The flat is dark and empty. He hasn't seen his parents today and almost, almost he is happy._

_Squirming a little on the mattress as his hip comes into contact with the hard slat, he falls asleep and does not dream._

_The door explodes open and for a terrified, sleep-befuddled moment he wonders if the house is falling down. Then he is aware of the shouting, aware of the anger. Hands bunch around the neck of his jumper and he is ripped from his bed, torn from safety, and this _isn't fair. _They never come into his room, or hardly ever. Lying still and silent in the dark, when they can't see or hear him – that's as close to being good as he can get._

_

* * *

_

The knife fell to the ground with a clatter as Danny leapt forwards. And he didn't really have a chance of actually catching Rusty, but he managed to make sure that when he hit the ground he was cushioned. Protected, as far as Danny was able. Working automatically, he pulled Rusty further inside and kicked the door closed. Then, heart racing and trying not to think too hard about what he was doing, he knelt up and eased Rusty over. His eyes were closed and his face was pale, but when Danny brushed a thumb over his cheek he gave a sort of gasp and leaned into the touch in a way that he never would when he was awake. And Danny couldn't decide whether that was comforting or not, but Rusty was passed out in his hallway, a mess of blood and bruises, and there was more blood than Danny had ever seen in one place before, and he had to figure out what to do.

With a grimace, and a fervent hope that Rusty wouldn't wake up, he struggled to his feet, hauling Rusty up with him. And his arms were wrapped tightly around Rusty's waist, and he could feel the sticky warmth of blood soaking through Rusty's clothes, beneath his fingers, and for a second all he could manage to do was stand there, biting down on his lip as hard as he could, and then he stumbled through to the living room, half dragging and half carrying, and somehow he managed to get Rusty lying down on the sofa.

He looked down for a long moment. At the face that he knew better than his own, and that now was almost unrecognisable. Bruised, bloodied and swollen. Danny had no idea where one injury ended and the next began. The bastard hadn't held back this time. And he needed to know the rest, and the bloodstains were worst at Rusty's left arm, so gently – very, very gently – he eased the sleeve up and caught sight of the damage and had to work so, so hard not to scream or cry or swear or do anything so unhelpful. The cuts were deep and still oozing, and the dried blood was thick and the tiny shards of glass glinted in the light and it wasn't _fair_ and it _hurt_.

He stumbled backwards and reached for the phone on the wall. Time he came to his senses. Enough was enough, Rusty was unconscious and even though the bleeding had slowed, Danny was sure he'd lost more than he should. (_He shouldn't have lost any_.) With shaking hands he lifted the received and dialled, and he'd only dialled '9' and '1' when he heard the tiniest of noises and looked round.

Rusty was awake, propped up on one arm and looking at him, and his eyes – or the one that he was capable of opening, at any rate - were pleading and beseeching.

"I have to," Danny told him, and felt a strange feeling of déjà vu. "It's serious, Rus'."

Rusty continued to look at him and Danny wavered.

"What do you want me to do?" he demanded. "Do you have any idea how bad you look right now?"

And Rusty looked away and Danny saw him tense and clench his fists, and he dropped the phone and hurried over and realised that they weren't going to solve this problem with doctors. He brushed his hand through Rusty's hair in silent promise, and Rusty looked back up at him and smiled slightly.

"If there's anything worse . . ." he trailed off and shrugged. "If I say we're going to the doctor, we're going to the doctor. Okay?"

Rusty nodded his agreement, and Danny could accept that.

Then he frowned, and played the conversation back through in his head. And slowly, ever so slowly, new fear and confusion wound their way through his soul. "Rus' . . .?" he began uncertainly.

And Rusty looked up at him, jaw tense, rigid and scared, and Danny closed his mouth.

"Never mind," he said with a forced quirk of his lips.

Then Rusty frowned, and rubbed at the bloodstain where he'd been leaning on the upholstery and looked up at Danny and there was fear and apology and it was unbearable.

Danny bit the anger back. "Not exactly what's important right now, Rus'."

In answer, Rusty glanced over to the doorway nervously and Danny understood.

"She's out right now," he told him immediately. "Working. She said she'd be back tomorrow. I'll turn the cushions over. Mop the floor. She'll never know."

The tiniest hint of exhausted amusement in Rusty's eyes said that he thought Danny was being a little over-optimistic, and Danny was inclined to agree, but there was something that was worrying him more. Because sure, his mom had said that she wouldn't be back till tomorrow night. But it wouldn't altogether surprise him if she turned up first thing in the morning. And that would probably be a good thing. Probably, she'd take one look at Rusty and she'd insist that he go straight to the hospital. Probably she'd even drive them herself. Probably. But if she didn't . . .

If she didn't, she still wouldn't let Rusty stay. If, as she had before, in the face of everything, she still insisted that her own little view of the world was correct, then she'd drive Rusty back to his parents. And forget what everyone said about needing to trust your parents, about honouring them and respecting their decisions. Danny couldn't let that happen. Not in a million years.

He glanced up to see Rusty watching him carefully. "Just thinking," he said, with a reassuring smile, and he watched Rusty relax by the barest fraction. "I think we need to get you upstairs."

Rusty pondered this for a few moments and then nodded slowly.

Danny walked over and made sure the doors between them and the staircase were open, and he tried not to look at the bloodied footmarks in the hall where he'd dragged Rusty through, until he suddenly stopped and thought about what he wasn't looking at. Footprints. Bare footprints. For the first time he realised that Rusty wasn't wearing shoes. He turned back and knelt down beside the sofa and gently reached out and turned the soles of Rusty's feet towards him, and beneath the dirt and the blood he could see cuts and blisters and bruises forming. And he thought about Rusty walking all that way barefoot, and it was one more jarring note of wrongness and it reminded him of the other thing that had been nagging at him. Because Rusty didn't own any nice clothes. That was a given, that was as much a fact of their life as the rest. But Danny had never seen him wearing anything quite so obviously too big for him, and certainly nothing with quite so many holes. His eyes flickered across the ratty grey jumper and the thin cotton pants and, the realisation suddenly dawned that Rusty was wearing his night clothes. And he thought about what could have driven Rusty, bleeding and in his pyjamas, to seek him out, and he wondered, dimly, over the blood roaring in his ears, if murder was always wrong.

When he felt he had himself under some degree of control, he looked up to see Rusty staring at the carpet, and he could see the embarrassment and he could see the humiliation and he always, always hated it. "Not your fault," he said firmly. "Never your fault.

Rusty seemed to shrink in on himself, and there was something more here than the usual.

"Rus' . . . ?"

But the only answer was a quick and fearful shake of the head, and Danny suppressed the grimace and reached out his hand. "Come on."

With the slightest look, Rusty claimed indignantly that he could walk on his own, and even as Danny doubted it, he found his lips twitching.

"Humour me," he said, with the barest hint of grin. "Because I'd hate to sprain something picking you up off the floor."

Rusty blinked, and half grinned, before he let Danny take his arms and pull him up. And Danny did his very best to be careful and gentle and considerate, but he still was aware of every wince of pain that he didn't see.

"I'm sorry," he said, inevitably, and he acknowledged the exasperated look that Rusty shot him. "I know, I know. I just hate hurting you." More exasperation. "I know it's not my fault. Doesn't make it better."

They walked out the room and Danny watched Rusty's face grow more impassive with each step, and he wished he was grown-up so he could just carry Rusty up the stairs. And he wished Rusty was grown-up so that people wouldn't hurt him anymore.

* * *

_He is dangling helplessly in the air and the fists are at his throat and he chokes and struggles to breathe and looks up into his dad's face._

"_You stupid, selfish piece of shit!" Dad rages. "You fucking, pathetic waste of space!" _

_His feet scrabble frantically in the air as Dad shakes him back and forth in time to his words. More than anything right now he wants to kick out, wants to struggle and hurt and escape and run and never look back. And that just goes to show how _wrong_ and _bad _he really is._

_Desperately he thinks back over the last few days, trying to figure out what he's done wrong. He can't think of anything especially awful. He and Danny had a good couple of hauls last week, so it's not even as though he's been eating too much food, and he's hardly been here to be too noisy._

_His head is thrown back as Dad punches him, once, twice, again, and the pain blooms in his mouth, his cheek, his eye. The blood runs down his face and he can taste it on his lips._

_Finally Dad drops him and he falls to the floor. He tries to get up, he really does but the boot that catches him in the jaw is unexpected and vicious and drops him immediately._

_Whatever he's done it must have been _really _bad._

_

* * *

_

The stairs took a while. Step by painful step and by the end, Danny was supporting both their weight. He didn't mind. They staggered into his room and automatically Danny started to take Rusty towards the bed.

Rusty froze.

Danny could feel him tense under his arm. Could feel him shaking. Couldn't bear it.

Without even hesitating he took a step towards the sofa and got Rusty sitting down on it. And Rusty knew that he'd noticed the fear, Danny could tell that by the way he wasn't looking at him. And Rusty was hunched over on the sofa, exhausted and shaking with cold and more-than-cold, and he was trying not to lean on anything, as if everything would hurt. As if everything _did_ hurt.

Desperately, Danny wanted to say that it was okay. He wanted to say that everything was going to be fine, that nothing was going to hurt Rusty anymore, that he wouldn't let anything hurt Rusty anymore. "I'm here," he said instead, and he felt stupid and inadequate. "I'm here."

And Rusty looked up and there was wonder and gratitude in his eyes and Danny could howl with the misery of it all and he saw Rusty's hand twitch, as if he _wanted,_ and quickly Danny reached out and clasped Rusty's hand in his and for a long moment they simply sat together and the silence was comfort.

Eventually he stood up and looked down at Rusty. "I need to see. If we're going to do this ourselves, I need to see."

Rusty's lips were tight and he shook his head.

Danny sighed. "Rus', you're hurt. You need help."

Another second of denial.

"Please," he said quietly. "It's only me."

And Rusty looked up at him sharply and somehow, Danny understood very clearly that he was never going to be an 'only'.

He bit his lip and ignored the chorus of emotion that echoed through him. "Please, Rus'," he said again and Rusty looked at him for a long time and then he bit his lip and carefully, clumsily started to take his jumper off.

After a couple of seconds Danny couldn't bear to let him struggle and he stepped forwards and quietly helped pull it over his head.

And he saw what was underneath.

Since he'd met Rusty, he'd often wondered if there was a trick to it. Some quality, some ability, some knowledge he lacked. Something that made people able to see the unending stream of injuries – a black eye here, a split lip there, bruises and bloodstains and _pain – _something that made them able to see all that and not fall into the dark place of anger and outrage. It passed his understanding; it always had.

Rusty's chest and stomach were smeared with blood and he could see the layers of dark bruises underneath, and he could see the couple of open welts that weren't nearly enough to account for all the blood. He moved round slightly to get a look at Rusty's back, and he saw the scores etched into Rusty's back, the bleeding, weeping lashes.

This was what happened. This was what Rusty was supposed to endure and Danny was supposed to ignore.

"Rusty," he whispered, and his voice was choked, and Rusty looked up at him sharply as if he was trying to be reassuring, but his eyes were clouded and he was still trembling.

There was a moment when it felt as if they shared the simple knowledge that this _wasn't_ right, that this wasn't what life should be, could be.

* * *

_He feels his dad stamp down on his shoulder blade and the fire shoots all the way along his arm. His fingers curl desperately and his nails scratch into the floorboards. The next kick catches him under the ribs and his breath vanishes and he's lifted bodily into the air. He takes the advantage of the momentum, manages to roll over and get his feet under him and before his dad can react he's on his feet and he's running for the door, running as fast as he can. Running is bad, but he's always bad anyway and he'd rather survive._

* * *

With a deep breath, Danny stood up. "Right. Right. I need to go get stuff."

He waited, a little hopeful, but there was no answer. Rusty was still sitting on the sofa, his jumper crumpled in his hand. And Danny could see he was still shaking, could see the pain that was still screaming just below the surface.

He swallowed hard and turned to head into the bathroom and was stopped by the smallest noise, the lightest moan. Blinking his eyes clear, he turned back and Rusty was looking at him and there was unguarded misery.

The breath caught in Danny's throat and he hurried back and lightly brushed his hand against Rusty's less-damaged cheek. "I'm not leaving you," he assured Rusty and his voice was horrified. "I just need to . . . we need to get you fixed up, Rusty."

This time he stayed and he looked into Rusty's eyes until he saw the understanding and the agreement and then he darted into the bathroom. Right. Flannel. Hot water. That was straight forward enough. He carried them back carefully and laid them next to the sofa. Rusty's arms were wrapped round himself and he barely seemed aware that Danny was there.

"I'll just be a couple more minutes, okay?" he soothed mindlessly, and after a second Rusty nodded tightly.

His parents' bathroom next. The medicine cabinet. He retrieved sticking plasters, bandages and antiseptic cream. The tub said it was soothing and healing. Good. Good, that was what they surely needed. Carefully he checked the little bottles of prescription medicine, hoping for something that he understood, hoping there was something that would help. Nothing, and he sighed. Tylenol then. With a frown he checked the back of the packet. _Not suitable for children under 12. _Oh, that was helpful. He stared at it for a couple of seconds, but they needed _something_ and he added it to the pile. What else? A pair of tweezers and he thought that was everything.

He carried it all through and suddenly realised what else. "One more thing, Rus'" he promised. "Then I'll be back and I won't leave."

Rusty didn't look at him and Danny was back in the room with a glass of water practically before the door had managed to swing shut.

He knelt in front of Rusty with a pill and the glass of water in his hand. "Here," he said gently and with an effort Rusty managed to choke the pill down with a mouthful of water. He held his hand out and, grimacing, Danny fished another pill out of the bottle. "It says not suitable for children under 12", he pointed out.

With a shrug and a subsequent wince of agony, Rusty managed to suggest that he'd taken them before and nothing catastrophic had happened.

Danny sighed and passed the pill over.

Rusty took another drink of water and his hand was shaking and the water spilled on the floor. Danny grabbed it quickly and set it down.

"We should get you cleaned up first," he said ignoring the second of embarrassment.

He took wet flannel and made to get the blood off Rusty's face and Rusty immediately tried to take it away from him.

"I know you can do it," Danny agreed frustrated. "Let me. Please." Rusty could, because Rusty was stubborn, but it would be difficult and it would take longer, and it would _hurt, _and Danny wanted – needed - to do something to help.

Rusty looked at him for a long moment and Danny had no idea what he was seeing. But he let go of the flannel and tilted his head back for Danny to see what was there.

"Thank you," Danny whispered. He was as gentle as he could be, and he knew how much it hurt Rusty, and he knew how much it hurt him, as he cleaned the blood away to reveal the bruises and the swelling and the cuts and grazes beneath. It hurt to watch the water in the basin turn red. It hurt each time Rusty stilled and clenched his fists and didn't make a sound. It hurt. _They _were hurt.

"Okay," he said at last. "Your arm next, I think."

Rusty looked up at him and grimaced.

Danny nodded. "Yeah." He wasn't looking forward to it either. He thought for a moment. "We need light."

He looked round the room and finally dragged the lamp from his desk over. The cable just stretched enough. "Think you can hold this up so I can see?" he asked and Rusty nodded and held the lamp aloft.

Danny looked at him thoughtfully. "Don't you normally stand in front of Manhattan?"

The smile was faint. But it made Danny happy.

He looked down at Rusty's arm. The glass shards shone in the lamplight. A moment and he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and dreamed a thousand wishes. Then, with a steady hand, he took the tweezers and got a firm grip on the largest piece of glass and _pulled_.

The sound Rusty made broke his heart and he had to look up, had to apologise and the words fell off his tongue, because he _never_ wanted to hurt, didn't understand how anyone could ever want to hurt, didn't understand why no one else _saw, _didn't understand why no one else _cared._

Rusty was looking straight back at him and they were together.

He took a deep breath and continued.

Glass bottle. It had to be. Vodka bottle probably, that was what he'd seen littering the floor the few times he'd been at Rusty's place. Rusty didn't let him come over too often. Said it wasn't safe. Probably it wasn't. Vodka bottle then, and Danny imagined Rusty's father – mother? Father, probably, Rusty had always said his mom was mostly easy to dodge – Danny imagined the bottle being brought down on Rusty's arm.

Easy to dodge.

A memory stirred. Several memories. But last month had been the most recent. The shop on the corner, down from the bridge. The shopkeeper who had been yelling at him. Insisting they'd been shoplifting. He'd taken a step towards them and Rusty had stepped in front of Danny and before Danny could react, the man had stepped closer and Rusty had thrown his arm up in front of his face, trying to protect himself, and Danny had come to his senses and grabbed Rusty and they'd ran and hadn't stopped running until they were at least ten blocks away. Rusty had thrown his arm up to protect himself.

"He was aiming for your head," he said aloud and the fury was roaring in his ears.

Rusty looked at him and there was nothing in his face that denied it and nothing that suggested that it mattered.

Danny looked down at the mess Rusty's arm was in, at the force, at the brutality. "He was aiming at your _head_," he repeated and if the bottle had hit, if it had broken on Rusty's head as hard as it had broken on his arm, Danny wouldn't be talking to Rusty right now. Rusty would be dead.

Rusty could be dead.

There was anxiety in Rusty's eyes as he stared at Danny and the concern was obvious and Danny almost laughed. "Oh, I'm _fine_," he assured Rusty. "And I guess you're fine too, right?"

Rusty's lips quirked slightly but he nodded seriously.

"Yeah," Danny said, and funny was difficult. "This is what fine feels like."

He took the lamp from Rusty and carefully shone it over his arm. Nothing glinted. Even when he wiped the blood away, didn't seem like anything else was in there. "Think that's all of it?" he asked.

Rusty nodded and his head was hanging low and the exhaustion was an almost tangible force.

"Not that much left," Danny said gently, and Rusty smiled his thanks for the lie.

He bandaged Rusty's arm as best he could, considering that he really had no idea what he was doing. The bandages ended up thick and unwieldy and probably uncomfortable, but at least he thought it would stay together. Silently he took the opportunity to apply antiseptic and plasters to the cuts and welts on Rusty's face and chest. "There," he said presently and hesitated. "Just your back now."

Rusty nodded and made no move to move.

Danny sat down on the sofa beside him and leaned in as close as he could. It was stupid and ridiculous. Rusty was the one that was hurting and Danny needed the comfort of him being close.

"Need to get it done," he said presently. "Then you can rest and I'll stay right here."

It was all he had to offer. He wished there was more.

* * *

_A hand grabs his hair and he is slammed into the wall and then the hand pulls his head back and his face is smashed against the wall again and again and again, and there is blood in his eyes and no matter how much he blinks, he can't bring the world back into focus._

_Dad lets go and he falls into a helpless heap._

"_Trying to run away. Just like that fucking slut you call a mother."_

_He sits still and concentrates on breathing and being invisible._

"_Look at me, you little shit," Dad sounds angrier than Rusty has ever known him and he looks up carefully. "On your feet," Dad snarls and he scrambles to obey. He tries to ignore the unquenchable spark of anger and defiance that burns inside. _

_He keeps eye contact. "I'm sorry, sir," he tries, his voice quiet and respectful and above all steady and he can feel the blood dripping off his lip as he speaks._

"_You think this is funny, you little shit?" Dad takes a step towards him and Rusty flinches back and cannot hide it and Dad stares at him with contempt. _

_This isn't funny. Bugs Bunny is funny. The Pink Panther is funny. This is not at all funny. "No, sir," he says and he isn't entirely surprised by the series of punches that are driven into his chest and stomach, that leave him gasping, leave his arms wrapped around himself like he's trying to hold all the hurt inside._

_

* * *

_

Rusty looked at him through a haze of pain and darkness and Danny hated that the fear hadn't faded away. Then he sighed and nodded and Danny moved aside and Rusty lay on the sofa, his face buried in his arms.

His back hadn't got miraculously better in the past hour. Danny felt sick looking at it. So many open wounds. As if Rusty's back had been sliced open again and again and again. So much pain. And Danny didn't know how and he could never hope to understand why, and he saw the bruises underneath, saw the shape of bootprints ground into Rusty's body and he wanted to scream.

He took the tub of antiseptic cream and started at the shoulders. Slow and careful and gentle and Rusty tensed up with every touch, and it was about pain and it was about memories so vivid that Danny could almost feel them.

"I thought you were a werewolf when you first knocked," he began casually, and Rusty lifted his head slightly and fixed Danny with a puzzled, glassy stare.

"I know, I know," Danny agreed and his fingers smoothed along a wide and angry gash. "No such thing as monsters."

Rusty smiled and laid his head back down and Danny's voice was helping, he knew that.

"Was watching this movie before you got here. It was good. Scary. There was this man and he was . . . not very nice. Was angry a lot. He hit his girlfriend and she left him." He winced and hurried on to the next bit. "Anyway, he went walking in the woods, late one night, and he heard something following him, and then this thing leapt out at him from behind a tree. It was all hairy and had huge teeth."

Rusty made a slight sound.

Danny sighed, exasperated. "No, _not _the tree. The werewolf. Anyway, it cut away but you were meant to assume he got bitten. In the meantime, his girlfriend had moved in with her sister and her two boys." He paused. "Actually, I think only one of the kids was hers. It was quite difficult to tell though. They acted like brothers." He thought of some of the kids at school. "They acted like brothers should act," he corrected himself.

"Anyway, she's living there, and they start to find dead animals around the outside of the house, all torn to bits. And they start to hear this howling at night, and claws scratching on the door."

Rusty shifted his head slightly.

Danny smiled. "No, it didn't knock."

There was a thoughtful pause.

"You're right," Danny agreed at last. "Would be a better way of getting in. Guess it wanted them scared." He finished Rusty's back and sighed. "Rus'?"

Quietly Rusty slid off his pants and Danny looked at the welts and gouges and cuts that covered Rusty's bottom and thighs, and nodded to himself. This was what they were supposed to ignore and endure. Rusty's face was buried in his arms and Danny was well aware of the feelings of helplessness and humiliation, and he hurt and he hated.

He resumed rubbing the cream in and carried on with the story. Places other than the real world were best. For both of them. "Anyway, she went walking late at night, and she heard something following her so she decided to take a short cut through the graveyard."

Rusty was decidedly sceptical.

"_I_ don't know why, guess she didn't watch that many movies. Anyway, she can hear the thing behind her and her flashlight starts going out and suddenly the screen is full of this thing's paw, and it reaches out towards her and she's just standing there screaming . . . " He trailed off.

He knew the question. He didn't really know the answer, but he knew the question.

"No, she doesn't die," he said definitely. "Because suddenly the two boys arrive, right? And they have this silver knife that they took from the visiting professor and they have this little bag of magic herbs. And the herbs slow the werewolf down and the boys stab him and he _dies_." He paused for a stunned second. "He dies," he repeated, and bit his lip hard before continuing.

"And everyone is so happy that the werewolf is gone that they give the boys his house and his stuff. And it turns out that he was rich, and so the boys have all this money and they don't need to rely on anyone anymore, so they live together for the rest of their lives and they spend all their time having adventures, and helping their friends and having as much fun as possible and they never have to be alone anymore because they have each other."

Rusty was looking at him.

Danny looked away and didn't meet his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, that didn't really happen."

He sighed and there was silence for a couple of minutes. "All done," he said at last. "Stay there, I'll get you something to wear."

He dug around in his drawers until he came up with a pair of pyjamas. With a slight smile he brought them over to Rusty.

Rusty unfolded them and the look on his face when he saw the duck holding the baseball bat was priceless. He looked over at Danny and Danny smiled at the half grin.

"My aunt got them for me," he explained. They were quite frighteningly cute. They were also incredibly thick and warm and somewhat too small for him. But most importantly, they had made Rusty smile. Even if the smile was a little disbelieving and a little mocking. "I don't think she likes me very much," he added pensively.

Rusty smiled some more and Danny helped him struggle into the pyjamas. The shivering had lessened. The pain had faded, although Danny had a feeling that was mostly due to the drugs.

"You want to stay on the sofa or you want to lie in the bed?" he asked gently and Rusty curled in on himself fractionally and Danny hated the answer that he had.

"It's okay," he assured quickly. "We can stay here as long as you need."

Rusty looked at him.

Danny scowled. "You think I'm going to go sleep in the bed while you're here? Not going to happen, okay? I'm staying with you."

There was a pause. Danny sighed. "Because I _want_ to," he said quietly and he didn't examine the simple truth that he couldn't do anything else.

Rusty nodded and his eyes were closed and his head tilted until it had fallen onto the arm of the sofa.

"Just a minute," Danny suggested and he pulled the blankets and the pillows off the bed and worked on fixing them so that Rusty could be as comfortable as possible.

The smile he was awarded warmed him in a way that nothing else ever could. "I'm full of good ideas," he pointed out lightly.

He curled on the far side of the sofa and watched Rusty drift towards sleep.

"Eventually we're going to have to talk about the fact that you're not talking," he said quietly.

Rusty didn't say anything.

* * *

_Dad brandishes a piece of paper in his face. He only manages to focus on it for a second, but he's almost certain it's in Mom's handwriting. "You drove your mother away, you pathetic, selfish little bastard. She's gone."_

"_When will she be back?" he asks quietly, because Dad without Mom is harder to deal with._

_Without warning Dad punches him in the face again and his head hits back against the wall. "She's not coming back! Moron!" His hand is around Rusty's throat and he leans in close, and Rusty can feel some long-forgotten part of himself crying inside. "She got so fed up of having to look after you all the time that she upped and walked out."_

"_No!" For a second he doesn't even realise he's spoken, until he's backhanded across the face, and he remembers that he's not supposed to argue with his betters._

"_You're such a useless, pathetic, needy burden that your own mother couldn't be bothered with you," Dad continues and his tone demands no arguments._

_Rusty keeps his mouth shut. Dad punches him in the stomach._

_

* * *

_

He watched Rusty sleep out of the corner of his eye and relaxed slightly as gradually the trembling faded and some of the tension left Rusty's face. Sleep was healing; Danny just wished it was a little more peaceful. Wished Rusty wasn't constantly turning over and over and stilling with each little movement. Rusty was in pain. Even while he was sleeping, Rusty was in pain and somehow, in some way, that hurt Danny too.

Rusty wasn't talking. And Danny didn't know why. Because if Rusty just wasn't willing to talk about what happened, they could work round that. They'd had to a few times before; there were always painful places. Danny thought of one of the times that he had been over at Rusty's place, and Rusty's mom had been sitting at the kitchen table, dressed only in her underwear, lighting matches and dropping them onto the floor, watching them burn with empty eyes. She hadn't even seemed to see him and Rusty when they crept into the kitchen to get some food, though he'd followed Rusty's example and kept well out of arm's reach. They'd never talked about that, but Danny had squeezed Rusty's hand tightly as they walked to the shops and a couple of Fudgsicles had fallen into his pocket for later.

But this was different. Larger, and Danny could _feel _the shape of the pain that was overshadowing them. Something too much for Rusty to shrug off the way he always had in the past.

It had never been this bad before. Not anytime Danny had seen. Not anytime Rusty had implied. And Rusty wasn't _talking _to him and that made Danny so scared. And it made him think they were doing the right thing handling it by themselves. Even if he did look at the physical and feel like screaming, even if he did want to drag Rusty to the doctors and make them look and make them do something, they had to rely on themselves. Because Danny didn't know what would happen if the authorities found out, but he thought that maybe they'd say that Rusty was crazy and maybe they'd take him away and lock him up someplace, and Danny _knew _how that would destroy Rusty. Knew how that would destroy _them_.

They were on their own. Like always.

Cautiously he reached out a hand and rested it in Rusty's hair being careful not to wake, not to startle. _He_ needed the comfort.

It was only when he woke up a couple of hours later that he realised that he'd fallen asleep.

He was woken by Rusty falling on the floor with a moan of pain and frustration, and instantly Danny was on his feet, cursing himself. He shouldn't have drifted off. Not even for a second.

"You should have woken me," he scolded gently as he helped Rusty to his feet, and he winced as he realised the depths of pain and exhaustion. "What were you doing, anyway?"

In response Rusty glanced over Danny's shoulder towards the bathroom, and Danny realised that the silence hadn't passed yet. "You should have woken me," he repeated in a quieter voice. "Think you can manage - "

With a glare, Rusty nodded and stepped away from him. This time Danny was in time to catch him before he fell.

"I'll walk you there," he said firmly. He could see that Rusty couldn't put any weight on his feet. Could see that the mere fact of being awake was tiring him out. Could see the dull trembling in Rusty's limbs. He sighed. "Come on."

They hobbled across the floor and Danny waited just outside the door until he heard Rusty struggle with the flush and with a grimace, he stepped in and helped. Then he froze.

"Was that blood I saw?" he asked, fear in his voice.

Rusty shrugged in a way that meant yes, and leaned on the sink to wash his hands.

"We need to go to a doctor," Danny insisted. "That's not right."

There was a pause and Rusty turned to look at him and Danny could see the unconcern and the resignation and the acceptance. It had happened before. Rusty was used to it. "Oh," he said quietly. "Does it hurt?"

Rusty grinned. Right. Right. Compared to what?

He clenched his fists. "_Fuck_," he breathed in a voice that trembled. It was the worst word he knew. "I hate that bastard."

There was a second and he saw Rusty retreat, watched the animation vanish, the life fade. He watched Rusty shrink in on himself, saw the doubt and the uncertainty and the blame. He could almost hear the silent voice. _I was bad. I got what was coming to me._

"You think there's anything in the world you could do that would make this okay?" he asked and his anger spiked. "You looked in a mirror lately, Rus'?"

Rusty's eyes stayed resolutely away from the bathroom mirror and the hand that gripped the edge of the sink tightened and trembled. Guilt hung in the air.

"You think this is about punishment?" Danny demanded. "_He likes hurting you_."

A quick turn of his head and there was anger on Rusty's face and none of it was directed where it belonged.

"I. Don't. Care," Danny hissed in a whisper. "Don't care what your parents say, don't care what my parents say. I wouldn't care if everyone who ever lived came here, right now, one by one and told me that you deserved it. They'd still be wrong and I'd still be right."

Rusty was staring at him.

Danny wouldn't be stopped. "If it was me, Rus'. If it was me. If my dad decided one day to hit me and hurt me until I couldn't walk across the floor, is there something that would make that alright with you?"

He watched the emotion play across Rusty's face, and for a moment he thought that Rusty would cry and then Rusty was sitting on the edge of the bath and Danny's arms were around him, holding as tight as he could without risking hurting. "I'm sorry," he whispered and he wasn't just apologising for what he'd said. "I'm so sorry."

They stayed like that for a moment and then Rusty carefully pulled away and Danny sighed and they stood up and stumbled back to the sofa.

"You need anything?" Danny asked, and Rusty shook his head.

Danny thought more carefully. "You _want_ anything? More painkillers? Glass of water? Hot chocolate? Something to eat?"

Rusty didn't offer any kind of response, but Danny was aware of the flicker at the hot chocolate. "I'll make some for both of us. Think we still have some marshmallows."

Rusty smiled at him.

* * *

_Pain explodes behind his eyes as the fist crashes into the side of his head._

"_She got so fed up of you bothering her, talking all the time, annoying her, that she abandoned you, even though it meant leaving _me._ You understand that? You ruined her life. My life. You ruin everyone's life!"_

_He nods. He knows he did. Does. He's heard the story before._

"_Your mom was a stupid little slut who got pregnant at fourteen. And I stood by her. Because that's what a _real _man does. Not that you'll ever know anything about that. Useless little sissy. That's right, we got _you! _A fucking, pathetic, crying piece of shit! And your mom's had seven years - "_

" _- nine," Rusty corrects stupidly because he knows how old he is, and the blow to his kidneys makes him curl tightly round the pain._

"_Years of putting up with you. And now she's gone. Trying to get a better life for herself, and she's dumped you with me like the worthless trash you are. You got any reasons why I shouldn't just leave you too?"_

_His eyes are on the floor again and he wants to look up, wants to scream and shout that he is too worth something, that if he tries he can make people like him, that he could be good if he was given a chance, that he has _Danny_ and Danny likes him, and that is more wonderful than Dad can ever imagine. "No sir, I don't" he whispers instead._

"_No," Dad agrees. "No, and you know why? Because there aren't any. And I'm going to stay anyway, because a real man takes responsibility for his mistakes. Even though you're soft and useless and bad and you're never going to amount to anything. I'll stay even though you're the worst mistake the world's ever seen. Now _what do you say_?" _

"_Thank you," Rusty mutters, and he's almost knocked off his feet by the punch._

"_For . . . ?" Dad prompts._

_He thinks furiously about everything that he'd be grateful for if he wasn't the awful person Dad says he is._

"_Thank you," he swallows and hates this, hates himself for _saying_ it even as he hates himself for not _feeling_ it. By any measure he is wrong. "Thank you for looking after me and letting me stay here even when I don't deserve it."_

"_And for giving you the punishment you deserve," Dad insists._

_He stares at the floor and watches, fascinated as the blood drips onto the floor and forms a pattern._

"_Say it, you little shit."_

_He hurts._

_

* * *

_

After a couple of false starts he managed to find a pan and stuck the milk on to heat. Outside he could see the beginnings of sunrise. A new day. Didn't feel like it. And that meant Mom could be home in the next few hours, and if the house still looked like the set for a horror movie, it wasn't completely unreasonable to think she might get upset. Not _just _for the upholstery.

With a sigh he left the milk and went and mopped the blood off the floor. Rusty's blood. It made him feel sick to think of it. Cleaning took a while, and then he remembered to turn over the cushions on the sofa in the living room. Looked a little misshapen when he'd finished with it, but he didn't think anyone would notice. And on the plus side, the living room carpet was dark enough not to show the blood. Somehow he doubted that had been his parents' rationale when they bought it.

As soon as he stepped back into the kitchen he was aware of the smell of something burning. Oh. _Fuck. _The milk had boiled over, boiled dry, and was generally completely incapable of being made into hot chocolate. And the pan was probably incapable of ever being used again. Sighing, he dumped the whole mess in the sink and started over.

* * *

_He is knocked to the floor and he doesn't even know exactly where Dad hit him. After a while the pain melts together._

_Surprised, when no more blows fall, he looks up. Dad is more angry than he's ever seen him. "Take your clothes off," Dad orders while he takes off his own belt._

_Rusty shakes his head and tries to get to his feet and when that doesn't work he crawls towards the door. Dad grabs the back of his jumper, pulls him to his feet and hauls the jumper over his head. He goes to pull Rusty's pants off and Rusty bites him in the arm._

_He sees the fist coming but he can't dodge and for a while the world is painted in shades of grey and he is helpless._

_

* * *

_

It was another twenty minutes before he managed to stagger back upstairs to Rusty, laden down with two mugs of hot chocolate, a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a bag of marshmallows.

Rusty looked a little amused as he nudged the door open with his foot.

"Practising to be a waiter," Danny explained ."Or a room service guy."

Rusty frowned.

"You know, like in hotels? With the trolley? You've seen them on TV."

He watched the understanding bloom and he smiled and pressed one of the mugs into Rusty's hands. "More painkillers?" he asked gently and he didn't wait for the answering nod before he grabbed the bottle, shook a couple of pills out and passed them over. "How's your back?"

Rusty shrugged painfully and Danny figured that meant "It hurts and I'm not showing you."

He sighed and accepted. "We can put some more of that cream on in another couple of hours. You think that'll help?"

Another shrug and this one seemed to signify vague agreement. Least something was helping.

He looked closely at Rusty. The pain was still sharp but the exhaustion had lessened and he didn't think that Rusty would be going back to sleep immediately. And he didn't want there to be silence, thought, somehow, that silence would be a very bad idea, but he didn't want to be sitting here, coming up with stupid, positive things to say that didn't demand that Rusty talk to him before he was ready.

Considering, he wandered over to his bookcase and grabbed the first book he saw that he was positive Rusty hadn't read. _He _hadn't read it either. It had been a birthday, present, a couple of years back. From the same aunt who gave him those pyjamas, actually.

Book in hand, he carefully settled on the couch, close enough to touch and not actually touching and he pulled the duvet up and over both of them.

Rusty was laughing at him. He resisted the urge to stick out his tongue, opened the book and started to read aloud.

"It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful."

He managed to resist the urge to laugh. Or cry.

* * *

_He is stripped and dragged to the bed. Dad drops him over the edge, and he tries to get up, tries to run, (and he wants to run to Danny, wants to see the way Danny looks at him, as if it matters, as if it all matters) _

_There is a crack and a line of pain rips into his back where the belt tears into him. He is horrified to hear himself cry, a noise of pain and shock and hurt and bewilderment._

_This has never happened before. Dad is about the immediate; Rusty does something wrong he gets punched or kicked or slapped as soon as the thought is in Dad's mind. This is different punishment and it hurts and he is afraid._

"_Fuck, boy, no wonder your mom left. You're such a cry baby." He cringes at the justified disgust in Dad's voice and clenches his fists at the satisfaction. He will not make another sound, he resolves. He will not cry and he will not whimper and he will not scream. Not because he wants to act tough or because he thinks it will make Dad happy. Not even because he understands that noise brings more pain – and as if in answer to the thought the belt comes down on him again and again and the pain burns deep into him. _

_No. He will not make a sound because he chooses not to. _

_

* * *

_

He read. "Occasionally one come across parents who take the opposite line, who show no interest at all in their children and these of course are far worse than the doting ones. Mr and Mrs Wormwood were two such parents. They had a son called Michael and a daughter called Matilda and the parents looked upon Matilda in particular as nothing more than a scab. A scab is something you have to put up with until the time comes when you can pick it off and flick it away. Mr and Mrs Wormwood looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little daughter off and flick her away, preferably into the next county or even further than that.

It is bad enough when parents treat _ordinary _children as though they were scabs and bunions but it becomes somehow a lot worse when the child is _extra_-ordinary, and by that I mean sensitive and brilliant."

Pausing and ignoring the thoughts and the echo that rippled through him, he realised that Rusty was looking at him.

"Sorry," he said, and he made sure that Rusty could see the apology was genuine. "Never read this before. Seriously, Rus', I wasn't trying to make some secret point about your parents. It's just what the book says."

Rusty continued to look at him, and his _expression _. . .

Danny's lips set in a thin line. "It is _not _about me," he snapped and they both froze as they heard the front door open.

In terrible silence they listened as Danny's mom walked up the stairs and neither of them so much as breathed until they heard her walk past Danny's door and into the master bedroom.

Danny sighed with relief. "She'll be going to sleep for a few hours and then she'll wake up and head into work," he explained. "Probably about eleven, that's what's happened the last couple of times she was gone all night. If we're careful and quiet, she'll probably leave again without ever noticing us."

He picked the book up and Rusty was looking at him again. "It's _not _about me," he insisted. "They don't treat me like . . . they're busy, is all. Both of them. They've got lives and they're _busy_ and every time I get in trouble, or whatever, it takes them away from what's important. Can't blame them for being upset."

He looked down at the book but the words blurred in front of his eyes. "It's not the same, Rus', really. Anyway I'm not some helpless little kid like her." He waved the book vaguely.

There was a second of hurt, and he got it instantly. "Of course I don't think you are," he protested indignantly and the thought had never crossed his mind. Rusty was the toughest person he knew. "It's a different thing, is all. And when it's just about being ignored or whatever, it doesn't matter in the same way. No-one's hurt."

He avoided Rusty's steady gaze.

"This coming from you?" he demanded instead. He sighed. "It's different, okay?"

Rusty nodded and leaned back against the arm of the chair. He closed his eye and Danny could see the pain dulling him.

"Besides," Danny went on lightly with only the barest pause. "How come I get to be extraordinary?"

Rusty's eyes snapped open and Danny's breath caught in his throat as he saw the answer in them; straightforward and matter-of-fact and overwhelming.

"Oh," he said in helpless wonder and Rusty smiled at him.

* * *

"_Stupid little shit!" Dad's voice comes from above him and the belt buckle tears into him again and again and again, "I'll make you sorry for driving your mother away."_

_He is sorry. He's very sorry. And he never meant to._

"_You're always whining about something. Always wanting something. Christ, you never _shut up. _Can you blame her for wanting nothing to do with a snivelling brat like you? Fuck, boy, can't you just learn to be good?"_

_There is nothing but pain and Dad's voice, and maybe he is wrong, maybe Danny is wrong, maybe Dad just wants him to be better because the anger is real and so is the frustration and if he could just be _good_ . . . _

_

* * *

_

Rusty fell asleep again, shortly after they heard Danny's mom get up and leave for work. For once, Danny didn't pretend not to notice Rusty's anxiety or the way he tensed or the way he shook, and instead he put an arm over Rusty's shoulders and whispered again his certainty that Mom would leave without ever coming in to see him. He was right. That didn't make it easier.

The fact that Rusty was afraid of Danny's parents was another one of those painful places that they didn't choose to confront. Danny knew perfectly well that it had little to do with his actual parents and far more to do with Rusty's instinctive, awful fear of all adults. Even the ones _they _liked and Danny trusted. He thought of a couple of weeks ago and the cake that Mabel had made for Rusty's birthday and Rusty had been so happy – shining – and Danny had thought he'd never believe Mabel when she insisted that the cake was for him, and then, once that had sank in, he'd thought Rusty would never stop thanking her. He'd been so wonderfully happy. And still when Mabel, beaming with an uninhibited joy of her own, had reached out as if to pull Rusty into a fierce hug, Rusty had cringed and flinched back out of reach, and Danny had needed to think quickly and had loudly burst one of the balloons to cover the moment. And that had been Mabel and Danny's parents were very much not.

But Rusty was more afraid of Danny's parents than he was of other adults, and it had taken some time for Danny to figure out why and longer still for him to accept the reason. Because, yes, there was the fear that Rusty had in general, the simple acceptance he'd acquired throughout his life that anyone could turn round and hurt him any time and for any reason, and there was nothing he could do about it. But there was more than that.

There was a sound, a gasp, a whimper and he looked round sharply to see Rusty huddled in on himself a little tighter, and he could see the trembling, the jerky movements, he could see the nightmare.

"Wake up, Rus'," he said, gentle and insistent, and he reached over and laid a hand on Rusty's shoulder. "Wake up. It's okay. You're safe, I promise. I'm here."

With a muffled cry, Rusty sat straight up, away from Danny, and he looked frantically, stared anxiously at Danny, studying every inch of him, and there was fear and panic and confusion, and it took Danny a few seconds to figure out the why.

"Oh, Rusty," he sighed. "I'm fine, okay? No-one hurt me. No-one laid a finger on me. It was a dream."

Rusty's eyes were wide and he didn't look convinced.

Danny cursed himself for his stupid words earlier. Should've known better. Because Rusty was more afraid of Danny's parents than he was of other adults, and it had taken Danny a long time to realise that while Rusty was afraid that one day they'd turn round and hurt him, he was _terrified _that one day they'd turn round and hurt _Danny. _

"No-one hurt me," he repeated and with everything he didn't feel, he made his tone light. "Really, Dorothy, it was just a dream."

Rusty smiled slightly and relaxed a little, and really he was still asleep, he'd never woken up properly at all, and Danny reached out an arm and wrapped it round Rusty's shoulders and drew him close and he was asleep again in a instant, and probably he'd never even know that he was lying in Danny's arms, his head snug against Danny's chest. Safe. Warm. Cared for.

* * *

_Dad stops at last, decades later, and he turns and leaves the room without a word. Rusty slips onto the ground and with Herculean effort he drags himself under the bed by his fingertips and curls against the wall, making himself as small as possible, being invisible._

_He hurts. He hurts _so much.

* * *

Danny was warm and comfortable and so deeply asleep that when the door crashed open at first, confused and befuddled, he wondered if the house was falling down. Then the yelling started and he realised that he must have been asleep for hours, for long enough for his mom to finish work and get home.

"Daniel! The pan in the sink is completely ruined. When will you learn to take more care . . . "

Suddenly she stopped, staring at them and Danny became aware that Rusty's head was resting in his lap, that his hand was tangled in Rusty's hair, that his other arm was wrapped round Rusty's chest, and Mom was staring at them and he didn't understand the look on her face.

And Rusty was awake, had in all probability woken up when the door slammed open, and he was tense and frozen, _(like he was afraid the werewolf had found them)_ and when Danny looked down his eyes were blank and empty and Danny's heart clenched. His eyes went back to his mom, still stopped in the doorway and he didn't look away, even as his hand moved up, even as he gripped Rusty's shoulder, even as he offered silent reassurance, he met her gaze and didn't blink.

Then Rusty sat up quickly and Danny knew the sudden movement was painful, and his arm was around his ribs and his breathing was harsh and ragged and Danny's mom was staring at his face, and she couldn't see much, she couldn't possibly see too much, just the bruises, the worst was all safely hidden.

After an unbearable second, Mom turned back to look at him and there was no emotion on his face and he didn't even fully understand the challenge he was offering, but she flushed and left the room without saying anything else.

That was what he wanted. What _they_ wanted. And so he really couldn't explain the terrible feeling of betrayal that overwhelmed him.

He turned and smiled at Rusty. Everything was fine. Everything was just fine.

* * *

_After time has passed and nothing has happened, he creeps out from under the bed and pulls his clothes back on. He needs to get out of here. Needs to. Needs._

_He puts his ear to the bedroom door and he can't hear any noise coming from the living room so he quietly opens the door and sneaks, limps, towards the front door. Towards away. Every step is pain and he is concentrating so hard on not making a sound that he doesn't even see his dad until the man is in front of him, swaying, a bottle clutched in his hand. Drunk, where before he was sober._

"_Look at you," Dad's voice is full of disgust and contempt and he can only be happy that Dad doesn't seem to see the flinch. "Fuck, you're pathetic. Just like your fucking mother. You think she's going to find that better life? Think she can survive without me? She'll be back scratching at the door, begging me to take her back. Think I'm going to? Fuck, I'm better off without that bitch. Just wish she'd taken you with her, that's all."_

_Rusty isn't going to say anything. Isn't. He's going to be good. And he thinks that maybe if he opens his mouth, even for a second, he'll scream and scream and never stop._

_

* * *

_

Rusty slept for most of the rest of the night and every time he woke up Danny would offer whatever combination of painkillers, ointment, food and drink seemed appropriate. The bandages on Rusty's arm bled through a couple of times and Danny changed them as best he could and he knew how it hurt. At least Rusty's back seemed to have stopped bleeding. Mostly. As long as he didn't move around too much. But the wounds were ugly and painful and everytime Danny looked at them he felt an overwhelming mixture of helplessness and fury.

It had been more than a day, and he was coping with the silence. It was surprising what you could live with. And he didn't want Rusty to be anymore afraid or uncomfortable than was inevitable, didn't want to pressurise Rusty into anything, didn't want to hurt, didn't want to make anything worse – but deep inside, this was killing him. Of course it was. They'd always been able to talk to each other. Right from the start, and that was a lifetime ago, they'd lived in constant communication. There was always something to say. Always some thought to be shared, some joke to be made. Words were to comfort and to hide behind and if that wasn't working, Danny was frightened. Danny was very frightened.

They drank hot chocolate. He read.

"'Of course she did it,' Miss Trunchbull boomed. 'And I'll tell you what. I wish to heavens I was still allowed to use the birch and belt as I did in the good old days! I'd have roasted Matilda's bottom for her so she couldn't sit down for a month!'"

There was a change in the atmosphere. Rusty shifted uncomfortably against the sofa.

Danny froze in sudden revelation. A picture formed in his mind. Long cuts and welts. Red, livid, bloody. Leather and metal raining down pain on the vulnerable, the defenceless.

Rusty stared at him anxiously.

"He hit you with a belt," Danny said and he barely recognised his own voice. "He hit you with a belt."

Rusty's eyes were clouded with pain and memory, and still Danny could see the beginnings of attempted denial, the claims that, really, it wasn't such a big deal after all.

"Rus'," Danny shook his head and held back the angry, frustrated tears by an effort of will. "He _shouldn't. _It's wrong. He whipped you. It's _wrong_." He didn't know any words big enough for how wrong it was. Didn't know there were any. Didn't think that there was any way of explaining how this tore him up inside, how he wanted to be able to protect Rusty, how he wanted things to be different, how he wanted to _make _things different.

Rusty looked away from him and Danny reached out to grip his hand and Rusty pulled it away with an angry gesture.

"No!" Danny was adamant. "Listen to me, Rusty. You're . . . you're my _friend._ And that means I care about what happens to you. I . . . I care about _you. _And this is wrong, you understand that? Tell me you understand that."

Rusty was shaking his head, not exactly in response to what Danny was saying.

"I don't know all the details?" Danny echoed the thought incredulously. "Rus', there is nothing you could do that could make this all right. And I already told you, there's nothing that'll convince me otherwise."

There was a flicker of something in Rusty's eyes, and, encouraged, Danny pressed on.

"It wasn't your fault, Rusty," he promised. "I don't need to know what happened to be able to tell you that. And I don't care what they said to you. It wasn't your fault."

He watched Rusty consider that and then it all got locked away, and he could see the moment that followed, the moment when Rusty needed, wanted, and he waited for a hopeful second, in case Rusty made the first move, but even as he watched that too was locked away and Danny had to act quickly and he leaned over, brushed his shoulder against Rusty's, comfortably, comfortingly,

"It wasn't your fault," he said again.

Rusty didn't answer. But he laid his hand on the book and, with a smile, Danny picked it up and started reading again.

"Miss Honey turned and walked out of the study feeling depressed but by no means defeated. I am going to do something about this child, she told herself. I don't know what it will be, but I shall find a way to help her in the end."

* * *

_Dad leans forwards and Rusty jumps back and trembles and he can smell the alcohol and he wants to be far away from here. "You mother's a stupid slut, boy," Dad confides. "All women are. She'll be off rubbing up against anyone who'll take her in for the night, you'll see." His voice is pleased and he holds up the bottle. "Want a drink?"_

_Rusty shakes his head. No. Definitely not._

_Dad doesn't listen or doesn't care and he forces the mouth of the bottle against Rusty's lips. It burns him and the combination of blood and alcohol almost makes him gag._

"_Fuck, you're worthless," Dad says and his voice is wondering. He turns away and Rusty seizes his chance and takes a couple of steps back, closer to the door._

_Dad turns back and sees him looking, sees him leaving. His expression turns ugly. "You don't leave," he snarls, and he swings the bottle hard towards Rusty's head._

_Rusty barely manages to get his arm up in time to protect himself and the glass shatters and falls around him like rain._

_

* * *

_

Danny leaned against the window and the glass was cool on his face. He was so tired. He didn't think he'd ever been this tired in his life. And the sun was rising and it was another day.

"Mom left."

The voice was quiet and came out of nowhere and Danny froze and even as part of him rejoiced, wanted to shout with happiness, he was moving on in his mind to what was important. There was nothing but sympathy on his face as he turned round. No surprise. No elation. Nothing to suggest that Rusty talking was in any way unusual.

"Oh, Rus'," he sighed and he sat back down on the sofa.

"It was my fault," Rusty said quietly, not looking at him and before Danny could say anything he continued. "She said so. She . . . she was fed up of looking after me."

'_When did she ever_', Danny wanted to ask, and he winced as Rusty glanced at him and frowned.

"She does," Rusty protested. "She buys food and she writes notes for school when I get too hurt. And she must have done other stuff once. Before I got old enough to look after myself."

Danny sighed. "That isn't - "

" - I used to talk to her, Danny," Rusty said, as if he was admitting to some terrible secret. "I knew it annoyed her and I'd do it anyway. And she got fed up and she left and Dad was angry with me."

"And he hurt you," Danny stated, feeling the cold fury burn deep inside him.

"He woke me up and he hit me a couple of times, and then he got his belt out." Rusty stopped and shuddered and Danny could feel the pain and the misery. "He got his belt out and he . . he . . . " Danny watched as Rusty shook his head and got himself back under tight control. "I drove Mom away and now he's stuck with me. Can't blame him for being angry."

Danny's fists were clenched. "Rus' . . . "

Rusty looked at him, sharp and desperate. "I deserved this, Danny. I did."

"You don't have to put up with this," Danny tried.

Rusty seemed to find that almost amusing. "What am I going to do?"

There was a pause and then they both spoke at once, voices overlapping and the only thing that mattered was making the point.

"He hits - "

" - he never wanted - "

" - you think that - "

" - I'm not exactly - "

" - I'll _never_ - "

" - he's got every right - "

" - there's nothing - "

" - _he hurts me, Danny_." There was a pause and the admission hung in the air. "He hurts me so much," and Rusty's voice was a whisper and then he turned away and his shoulders were shaking and with a stab, Danny realised that Rusty was crying.

He'd never seen Rusty cry before. Not once.

Gently he leans over and he pulls Rusty back, into his arms, and he holds him close and lets him cry and he whispers the only words of comfort he has.

"I'm here, Rus', I'm here and I'm not going to leave you. Not ever."

* * *

_Dad is momentarily off-balance and Rusty ignores the pain and the feeling that he's bleeding more than he ought to and he runs for the door, fear and need letting him do just a little more than should be possible._

"_You tell your friends about this, you make sure you tell them you had it coming!" Dad shouts after him and Rusty rejoices that he isn't being followed._

_The landing is cold and he pauses, shaking and already exhausted, at the top of the stairs. He is being watched and he turns round just in time to see Mrs Garcia slam her door shut hurriedly. Fair enough. He hates the way she looks at him anyway._

_He wants to sit down and knows he can't, because if he lets himself rest right now he'll never be able to get up again. Hurts too much to think about resting. He staggers downstairs, leaning on the wall and leaving a little trail of bloodied handprints on the paintwork._

Danny_, he decides. He will go to Danny and he feels proud of himself for making it sound as though he had a choice._

_Right now he craves the comfort that Danny is, the warmth and affection that no one else will ever offer him._

_He will go to Danny._

_And eventually he will tell Danny the truth. That he had it coming._

_

* * *

_

Hours had passed and Rusty hadn't said another word. And that was all right. It was.

From downstairs he heard the front door opening and closing and he smiled in genuine happiness. Dad must be home at last. Eagerly he started towards the hall and as soon as his hand was on the door, he heard his mom's voice.

"_Oh, look what the cat's dragged in. Do you have any idea what that son of yours has done now? He's completely out of control and - "_

As the shouting began, Danny turned away from the door.

Rusty was asleep on the sofa, sprawled out on his stomach. He looked peaceful. He looked young. Danny's heart ached.

Downstairs the argument raged. Danny closed his eyes and, impulsively, brushed a kiss against Rusty's cheek.

When he opened his eyes Rusty was staring at him, wide-eyed and without even the beginnings of understanding. His fingers traced over his cheek where Danny had kissed him.

And Danny thought about trying to explain, thought about trying to put into words what he felt, but he didn't understand that himself.

Instead he dropped to the floor in front of the sofa and leaned his head back, and he could feel Rusty's breath against his hair.

There was angry screaming below them and they sat in silence and Danny wondered about a world where the werewolves won.


	24. Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play

**Been a while since I updated this. And this chapter is even longer than the last one! Though a lot less dark. Which is good, right? **

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**12. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**13. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thireen, Danny is sixteen**

**15. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**16. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**17. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**18. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**19. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**20. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**21. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19  
**

* * *

Mabel was serving a customer when they came in, but she spotted them and hastily signalled them over. Which was interesting. Normally she left them to get settled and then came over for a chat when she had the time. Something must have happened, and Rusty glanced at Danny quickly, but Danny didn't know either; he just smiled and wandered over to the counter to watch Mabel pouring coffee.

"Morning, Mabel," he said, as soon as the customer's attention was back on his newspaper.

"Hi," Rusty added, with a grin.

She paused and smiled warmly at both of them. "And where have you two been? The place has been positively quiet the last while. I was starting to miss you." The tease was loud and clear in her voice.

Two weeks. They'd been having an enforced stay-at-Danny's-and-watch-movies-and-eat-popcorn weekend the first week and then the second his bruises hadn't faded quite enough for him to be happy that Mabel wouldn't say anything.

"Sorry," he said sincerely.

"We've not been cheating on you with any other diners," Danny added and she laughed.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" she demanded. Then she leaned forwards. "There's a boy in here looking for you." There was trepidation in her voice. And he could understand that, they'd used the 'bullies' excuse often enough – maybe too often – and she didn't want him hurt in her place. Still. As far as he was aware – as far as _they _were aware – no one was _looking for them_, looking for them. Which meant it was probably just someone looking for them.

"Thanks, Mabel," Danny said, looking – as he almost always did in public – as though he knew exactly what was going on. "He still here?"

She nodded. "In a booth in the back," she told them. "Can I bring you any food over?"

"Coffee and a burger please, Mabel," Danny said with a smile .

"Milkshake and a bowl of fries and a jelly donut please, Mabel," Rusty decided.

She raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. "And . . . " he scanned the counter. "An apple?" he suggested.

She smiled at them. "Sure, honey. I'll bring it over."

They paused as they walked further into the diner. There weren't many customers of course. Their usual table – the one close to the back door that gave the best view of the street and both exits – was empty. There was an old woman picking at a muffin. The man at the counter, sipping his coffee. And . . . over in the last booth, facing away from them, there was Mike.

Oh. That was interesting. They exchanged a glance and Danny didn't have any ideas to the 'why' either.

They slid into the booth opposite him and he looked surprised to see them.

"Hi, guys," he said nervously, looking round furtively.

Rusty carefully didn't look at Danny. Suddenly this felt like a clandestine meeting and he resisted the urge to check the salt and pepper for listening devices.

"Hello, Mike," Danny said, amusement sparkling in his voice. "You been looking for us?"

"Because you've found us," Rusty added.

"Right," Mike nodded, twisting his coffee mug in his hand. "Someone said that you ate lunch here most Saturdays. So I figured I'd get here early and wait."

Rusty wondered just how many cups of coffee Mike's waiting had involved. "What can we do for you?" he asked.

"I was . . . well, I was talking to Jeff Thomson." He stopped.

Danny nodded encouragingly. "Go on."

"He said that you - "

Rusty held up a hand quickly as Mabel brought their food over and Mike shut up.

He blinked down at his plate. Huh. Apparently his bowl of fries came with a sandwich and a salad. Aware of Danny's look of amusement, he glanced up at Mabel enquiringly. "Uh, Mabel? I didn't order - "

She looked at him, lips pursed and he closed his mouth. Right. He wasn't going to argue; Mabel had clearly decided he was getting skinny again. He'd just have to make sure that she charged them when they left.

Mike, oblivious to all the unspoken, laughed at the food laid out on the table. "Honestly, Rusty, don't they feed you at home?"

Mabel quickly laid Danny's coffee and burger in front of him and abruptly walked away. Danny sat next to him and far away, and Rusty didn't have to look to know about the tension and the misery and the stillness, and he wanted to remind Danny, to tell Mabel, that it wasn't that bad, that it had never been that bad.

But he had to cover before Mike understood any more than he should. He grinned. "What? I'm hungry," he said truthfully, popping a fry in his mouth and eating it before continuing. "And really, I think better when I'm eating. So you should be pleased. Now. What's the problem?"

"You know how I'm in the drama club?" Mike asked, and Rusty took a forkful of salad and nodded. "Well, we've had our budget slashed."

"Ouch," he commented.

"Sounds painful," Danny agreed lightly, and Rusty breathed a silent sigh of relief that the moment was passed.

Mike shot them an annoyed look. "This is serious," he insisted. "We don't have any money to buy the props we need."

Danny blinked. "Props?"

Rusty leaned towards him. "Means the things they use on stage to pretend it's the real world."

"Right," Mike nodded. "More or less. Set furnishings and hand props. Items we use. Anyway, the play's on Friday, and Mr Harrigan says that we can do without and just mime, but . . . "

"You don't want to," Rusty nodded.

"And you thought we could help," Danny agreed with a smile.

"Well, you've been doing a lot of things for a lot of people lately," Mike explained, "And I don't think I want to know how - "

" - probably not - " Rusty put in.

" - but I've got a list."

He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and pushed it across the table. They looked down at it for a long moment.

"Huh," Rusty said thoughtfully, and Danny was already considering.

Watching them carefully, Mike went on. "Obviously, we couldn't really pay you, but I could give you a couple of tickets for the play, and you could get producer credits." He grimaced. "Really guys, I'd owe you an enormous favour."

Danny looked up. "Really?" he said slowly.

Mike looked confused. "Yeah, sure. Anything." And Rusty almost wanted to tell him that was a little hasty.

Still. He remained stuck on the list. He frowned at the last item.

Apparently Mike must have caught the look. "Hey, it could be worse. Least I'm not asking you to help me stage Aida," he grinned.

They glanced quickly at each other. Enough to acknowledge the joint incomprehension. Oh well. He pulled his fries closer and looked back at Mike.

Food and more information. That was what he needed.

* * *

After Mike had left, Danny stared down at the list. A spinning wheel, a guitar, smoking test tubes, a wedding dress and a sword.

He shook his head. "What _is _he putting on?" he asked wonderingly.

Rusty looked at the list. "Cinderella?" he suggested.

"With the test tubes?" Danny frowned, then he blinked. "You mean Sleeping Beauty" he pointed out.

"Do I?" Rusty asked suspiciously.

Danny nodded. "Sleeping Beauty is the one where she pricks her finger and falls asleep. Cinderella is the one with the pumpkin and the glass shoe." He was positive of this.

"Oh." He watched Rusty consider. There was a sudden grin. "Actually, I've not seen either of them. What's the one with the glass coffin and the - "

" - Rus' -" he sighed.

" - necrophiliac?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "You really wanna be saying that where Mabel might overhear?"

Rusty looked slightly apprehensive. "No," he said definitely.

"Right," Danny agreed. "Where'd you learn these words anyway?"

He got a look. "Your English homework. Last month. Remember?"

"Oh." He did. "You know, I don't think those were the words Mrs Patterson was looking for."

"You think?" Rusty asked with a roll of his eyes.

Time for a quick change of subject. He smiled. Speaking of Disney movies . . . "Maybe it's - "

" - _not_ Bambi," Rusty interrupted firmly. "And not Aida either."

He couldn't help but laugh. "That's going to annoy you, isn't it?" Rusty didn't like it when there were things he didn't understand.

Rusty glared at him absently. "You know, there's a spinning wheel in the public library."

"Really?" he asked intently, thoughts already forming.

"In the storeroom in the back," Rusty nodded.

Wait a minute. Wait just a minute here. He grinned. "How do you know so much about the library?"

Rusty shot him a look. "Some of us aren't actually afraid of books," he said nastily and Danny's grin faded. There was something Rusty was trying to distract him from.

"How do you know so much about the library?" he asked again, seriously this time, and Rusty couldn't meet his gaze. He sighed. "Last summer," he stated.

Staring down at the table, Rusty picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Last summer. While I was away," he went on and he closed his eyes and thought about Rusty being hurt and abandoned and afraid and alone.

Rusty reached across the table and laid a hand on his, and he opened his eyes. "It's all right, Danny," Rusty said quietly. "Really. I promise."

"Of course it is," he agreed hollowly.

"It was warm. I could stay in there all day and as long as I was quiet and relatively clean, no one complained," Rusty told him and Danny nodded and suppressed the part of him that wanted to uselessly scream and rage at the world, the part of him that ached, the part of him that wanted to cry, to show people, to make them see that life wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. As if they didn't already know that.

Rusty was looking at him apprehensively, and really, this wasn't the time or the place to get into another discussion _(argument) _about 'should be' and 'is' and about what Rusty deserved and what he got. He swallowed his emotions with difficulty. "So you want to go and find out how we're doing this?"

* * *

Later, and they sat outside the steps of the library, apparently playing marbles. The reality of it was that Rusty was cheating and Danny was trying to figure out how. Oh, he knew fine well that by far the easiest way for him to find out would be to simply ask – Rusty would tell him immediately - but that was a lot less fun. Most of their attention was focused on the door anyway. The library had shut an hour ago, give or take, and they needed to know how long it took for the building to empty.

"Producers," Rusty commented out of nowhere, spinning a marble round and round absent-mindedly.

Danny glanced over at him. "Yeah?"

"You feel more like Gene Wilder or Zero Mostel?"

Oh, that was . . . "Got to tell you, 'We find the defendants incredibly guilty' is not a phrase I want to be associated with right now, Rus'."

Rusty grinned. "How about 'I want everything I've ever seen in the movies'?"

Better. Definitely better, and he couldn't have stopped the smile if he'd wanted to. The door opened and a small crowd of people exited the library, chatting happily. There was a long moment involving keys and locks, and then the library staff were walking down the steps, and around and past Danny and Rusty. It took something of an effort not to look up, not to look interested, but he stayed still, stayed smiling happily at the game until after the crowd had dispersed and wandered off their separate ways. "That everyone?" he asked. He'd thought so, but always best to check.

"Seven," Rusty nodded. "Almost certain."

"So, what, a little over an hour for them to clear the building?" he asked, and they picked up the marbles and wandered up the steps.

"Looks like," Rusty agreed. "Workable."

Seemed likely. They examined the door carefully.

"Locks look easy enough," Rusty said with confidence.

Danny was staring up though, had seen the problem. "Alarm system," he pointed out shortly.

"Oh," Rusty said with a grimace. "Guess we'll - "

" - no," he said thoughtfully. If he had to guess, he'd say that just the door was alarmed. "How long would you think that it takes for someone to respond to one of those?"

Rusty shrugged. "Ten minutes?" he suggested. "At least? It's not long enough to go in and - "

" - no," Danny agreed, because that was obvious. "But it would be long enough to - "

Eyes widening, Rusty caught on. " - if we were already inside - "

" - breaking out - " Danny nodded.

" - doesn't take nearly as much time," Rusty finished.

Oh, they had a plan.

* * *

Sunday and they'd spent the morning in the arcade, the afternoon in the cinema watching James Bond for the second time that month, and the past hour hiding behind the small shelves at the very back of the library, behind a bunch of cookery books. The one directly in front of his face had a really tasty-looking chocolate cake on the cover. Huh. He was kind of hungry.

Danny followed what he was looking at and grinned at him, and it wasn't mockery, just amusement. He watched, maybe a little disapproving, as Danny reached into his pocket and then his eyes widened when Danny produced a Snickers bar and passed it over.

They were supposed to be being very, very quiet. Very, very careful.

Danny grinned. "There's no one anywhere near," he pointed out in a whisper. "And I don't like having to deal with you when you're hungry. Cranky's the least of it."

And that was the truth. He smiled, broke the Snickers bar in half, and passed half of it back to Danny, and the look in Danny's eyes when he took it . . .warm and caring and everything good in his life, and looking at _him_. Rusty was happy. Almost ridiculously so.

They sat, and other than eating their chocolate, they were as still and as quiet as statues, and gradually the people stopped moving around, and gradually the lights were turned off, and from the floor below they heard the doors open and close, and they were alone in the dark. They glanced at each other and gave it another fifteen minutes. Just in case. Be terrible to be caught because someone had forgotten something.

Eventually, they stood up, and, pretty much in unison, stretched and dug their flashlights out of the bag they'd brought.

"Spinning wheel?" Danny asked.

"Spinning wheel," he confirmed. "This way."

He'd seen it in the storeroom when he'd been helping one of the librarians carry boxes from the children's section. She'd seen him there three days in a row and had apparently formed the opinion that he was a shy boy who liked reading and would appreciate a little attention, and she'd asked him to help her with the displays. He'd gone along with it, she'd asked a couple of questions, and he hadn't gone back the next day. But he'd caught a glimpse of the inside of the storeroom. And there'd been all kinds of junk in there. They could steal it and no one would notice for at least a few days.

The door was locked and that didn't take long to deal with at all.

They stood looking down at the spinning wheel. "Huh," Danny said eventually. "That's what Mike's looking for?"

"Guess so," he said with a frown. "Though I suppose - "

" - yeah," Danny nodded. "Why?"

He shrugged and started taking the thing out of it's place amidst cardboard boxes and piles of newspaper.

"Plus," Danny added, "I don't even get how anyone could prick their - "

" - ow!" he complained, sticking his finger in his mouth, sucking away the dot of blood.

Danny sighed. "Never mind. Just let me know if you start feeling sleepy."

He glared at the spinning wheel. "What's the thing supposed to do, anyway?"

"Make wool," Danny said, in a voice that was somewhat less than certain.

"How?" he demanded.

Danny shrugged. "Sheep are involved," he suggested.

"So, what, you stick a sheep in one end and wool comes out the other?" he asked with a frown.

"Do you want to steal it or knit a jumper?" Danny's voice was mild.

He considered. "Does it do wedding dresses?"

Danny grinned and helped him haul the spinning wheel out of the storeroom and got it stuffed into the large holdall they'd brought with them. Had to figure that two boys carrying a bag through the streets late at night would attract marginally less attention than two boys carrying a spinning wheel. That sort of thing got noticed.

"So what do you think?" Danny asked.

He glanced up at the window. "Few more hours," he said decidedly. No good breaking out of the library while it was still daylight.

Danny nodded. "So," he said grimly.

"Homework," Rusty agreed.

* * *

Homework done by flashlight, in a huddle of beanbags, in a building that they were absolutely not allowed to be in, that it was probably _illegal _for them to be in, was still remarkably dull. Danny drew a pattern of dancing stick figures along the margins of Rusty's English assignment and considered. "What do you think about trees?" he asked.

"You mean am I for or against?" Rusty asked, not looking up from the encyclopaedia he was reading. Danny wasn't asking. Rusty had already finished Danny's math problems. He was quicker at it; he'd spent a whole day staring at Danny's math textbook a couple of months back, when even the light and movement from the TV had left him sick and dizzy, when even talking had left him with a headache. Somehow, he'd learned and somehow it had stuck.

He shrugged. "Something like that. You're supposed to write a poem about them."

Rusty nodded. "Go trees," he suggested.

"Right." Danny stared down at the paper and thought some more.

There was silence for a while, other than the scratching of Danny's pencil, and the occasional turning of a page.

"How would you rhyme 'deciduous'?" he pondered eventually.

Rusty grinned. "I wouldn't."

"You think I should try something else?" He considered. "Maybe a limerick?"

"There was a young man from the woods - " Rusty began.

" - whose penchant was for painting nudes - " he continued immediately.

" - when hiding up trees - "

" - he charged extra fees - "

" - and the park ranger gave up the goods."

They looked at each other for a moment. "No?" he suggested.

"No," Rusty agreed, and stabbed at his book with a finger. "Ah! Got it! There's an elephant in it."

"What?" Danny blinked.

"Aida," Rusty explained. "We'd need to get an elephant."

"Ah," he nodded. "Makes a sword look - "

Rusty scowled. " - oh, positively _easy_,if only - "

" - we had the first idea," he agreed with a groan. Tomorrow's problem. Tonight was still about tonight. He glanced at his watch and up at the windows. "What do you think?"

Following his gaze, Rusty nodded tightly. "Yeah. Time."

Putting everything back where they'd found it, they walked to the front door. "Ready?" he asked, a little breathless.

"Uh huh." Rusty looked about as nervous as he felt. Oddly, this plan had looked a lot more sensible in the cold light of day than it did in the dark and the mysterious.

The moment he touched the lock, the alarm started screaming, and by the time the door slammed open, by the time they were running down the stairs, running as far and as fast as possible, running before anyone could see them, before anyone would come out of the surrounding buildings, figure out what was going on, by the time they were away and free and unstoppable, his heart was beating fast and wild.

Not fear. Not panic. Exhilaration. And he turned round and grinned at Rusty and Rusty was laughing, and this was fun, and this was happiness and this was what he wanted.

* * *

Monday lunchtime and the morning had passed in a haze of art and boredom. Danny couldn't help but think that there was a limit to the number of conch shells anyone could reasonably be expected to sketch.

He waited for Rusty at the bottom of the stairs with a certain amount of anxiety. There'd been an awkward moment that morning. Rusty had stayed over at his – which was always good – and maybe they'd stayed up talking a little too late last night because this morning they'd slept in a little longer than they should have. Which meant that they'd been in more of a hurry. Which meant that they'd been a little more careless than usual. Which meant that they'd walked into Dad on the stairs. Yeah. Awkward.

Dad had stared at them for a long moment, apparently surprised to see two boys where he thought there should only be one. And in the end he hadn't said anything beyond a polite 'good morning', but Danny was certain there was going to be some sort of discussion – lecture – about this later. Hopefully just from Dad. Hopefully he wouldn't get the school involved. Or Mom.

Most of the time, Dad was more understanding about things. About him and Rusty. Danny was pretty sure that he thought that this friendship was a rebellious phase that Danny would grow out of, if they just gave him time, if they refused to take it seriously. And sometimes he fantasized about sitting Dad down and calmly explaining exactly how he felt and what it all meant and the fact that nothing was ever going to change that. Trouble was, it was all too easy to imagine the look on Dad's face if he ever tried.

Still. They'd been caught doing something they weren't supposed to, and there were going to be consequences, and the important lesson to take away from this was not to get caught again.

Finally Rusty appeared at the top of the stairs, grinned his goodbyes to his laughing classmates, and strolled over to join Danny.

"There's no way the music department will let the drama club have a guitar," Rusty reported. "Apparently there was an incident with a sousaphone a decade ago and since then they've been having their own private war."

"What kind of incident?" he couldn't help but wonder.

Rusty shrugged. "All Mr Sharp would say is that no-one actually _died. _But Joseph Becker's nose was never quite the same."

They exchanged a long look, grinned to each other, and started walking down the corridor.

"Okay," Danny began after a moment. "So, the guitar - "

" - tonight," Rusty agreed, and it should be simple enough. "Still don't know about - "

" - the wedding dress?" Danny nodded. He'd been thinking about that. After all, Mike had told them that it didn't actually need to be worn by anyone. It just had to hang there. "Mom's is still at the back of her closet. We could easily borrow it for a couple of days. She'd never even know."

"Sounds good," Rusty agreed with a smile. He paused outside a classroom. "So. Test tubes?"

"Test tubes," Danny nodded and pushed the door open.

Lee was standing behind a desk, wearing thick goggles, doing something with a beaker, a tripod and a bunsen burner that Danny thought was probably fairly dangerous and, according to Rusty, was directly related to his plans for world domination through science. He whirled round at the sound of the door and almost set fire to his sleeve.

"Hi Lee," Danny smiled.

"Hey Lee," Rusty added.

Lee sighed. "Oh. You two. What do you want?"

"We were wondering if you could help us," Danny explained, taking a seat opposite Lee.

Rusty had wandered over to the back of the room and was investigating a large cage. ""You've got a whole lot of mice in here," he called out.

"They're for this afternoon," Lee explained and turned back to Danny. "With what?" he asked suspiciously.

"We're helping Mike with the play on Friday," Danny said. "He needs a load of smoking test tubes."

Lee frowned. "Take it you don't want anything that'll explode or poison the audience?"

"We're easy on that point, actually," Rusty called over his shoulder.

"Not this time," Danny said firmly, trying, and failing, to glare at him. "Is it possible?" he asked Lee.

"Possible," Lee said with a shrug, sounding less than enthusiastic.

And this was the difficult part. He'd been hoping that Lee would volunteer to help out of some sort of spirit of solidarity. Didn't look like that was going to happen. He smiled, as relaxed as he could possibly look. "Will you let us have something?"

Sighing heavily, Lee slumped down onto a chair and looked over at him. "What'll you do for me?"

That wasn't like Lee. Not at all. "What do you _want _us to do?" he returned instantly.

Lee hesitated and then shook his head. "Nah. Never mind. Let's forget the whole thing. I can't help you."

Huh. That was actually kind of intriguing. Rusty looked round, obviously agreeing. "Come on," he entreated.

"What do you need?" Danny pressed.

"Well . .. " Lee paused. "You know that there's this Glee Club Summer Ball thing coming up?" he began.

Danny frowned. Well. Yes. There was, he supposed. "In about two months."

"I like to think ahead," Lee told him absently, looking over Danny's shoulder. "Don't get too attached, we're dissecting them after lunch."

There was a pause that lasted a couple of seconds too long, and Danny was just about to twist round, to check, to reassure, and then Rusty strolled back over and jumped up to sit on the bench just behind Danny. "Oh, well," he said casually. "So there's this dance. You going?"

"Yes," Lee nodded. "Or at least I was. I asked a girl. Ami. I asked Ami Sato."

"And she said no?" Danny guessed, sympathetically. Lee's crush was longstanding and pretty well known.

But surprisingly, Lee shook his head. "She said yes. Yesterday. Then she came and found me this morning and said that she couldn't and she ran off crying."

Oh. Danny pursed his lips. Seemed Lee had _problems._

"Huh," Rusty nodded slowly. "You want - "

" - to know why?" Danny finished.

Lee scowled. "I _want _to go to the dance with her." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "No. No, I want to know if she's all right. I want to know if there's anything I can do to make it up to her."

He sounded miserable and sincere and it was difficult not to be sympathetic. "We'll see what we can do," he promised, and he could feel Rusty looking at him.

"Really?" Lee asked hopefully.

"We'll _talk _to her," Rusty said firmly. "We're not promising anything."

"Even if you try . . . " Lee smiled at them for the first time that day. "Come by after school tonight and I'll give you the stuff that you need. It's easy enough to fix up, and I guess it's still being used for school purposes . . . "

They left Lee to return to his bunsen burner and his megalomania. "He should have a lightning storm," Danny commented. "And an ugly lab assistant."

Rusty grinned. "You volunteering for the job?"

"I'm not qualified," Danny said immediately. "Maybe _you _should - "

" - maybe if you weren't so vain, you'd - "

" - vain?" Danny demanded, with mock outrage. "I'm - "

Rusty looked over at him. "Your hair's sticking out at the back," he said calmly.

With an effort he managed to stop his hand from doing any more than twitching. Rusty saw anyway and laughed. Danny sighed. "So we need to talk to Ami," he stated.

"Right," Rusty said simply. "You know - "

"Uh huh." He did. Probably, he should have kept his mouth shut. "There's a good chance we won't be able to do anything."

"No," Rusty agreed.

"I mean, this is difficult," he went on thoughtfully. "There's a good chance that it's really - "

" - impossible," Rusty chipped in, nodding wisely. "We could even make things worse."

They walked in silence for a couple of steps. Then Danny looked at Rusty. "So, you have a mouse up your sleeve right now, don't you?"

"Uh huh," Rusty's hand shot out of his sleeve and Danny saw a small mouse looking up at him contemplatively.

"Very nice," he said calmly and resisted the urge to bang his head off the wall.

Rusty was wearing the earnest expression that teachers always seemed to fall for. Why he thought it would work on Danny was a mystery. Really, it was just annoying . . .oh. That would be it. "Lee said they were all going to be killed, Danny. And Olaf's not done anything to deserve that."

"Olaf?" he asked, knowing he was going to regret it.

"Olaf the Brown," Rusty explained happily.

Danny looked thoughtfully at the black-and-white mouse. "Of course," he agreed. "You remember the part where I said you weren't to name anything anymore?"

Rusty sighed. "I'm not keeping him, Danny."

"You got - "

" - Brady. He's already got six mice. Also two guinea pigs, four cats, eighteen goldfish, a parakeet and a chinchilla. He won't mind taking in Olaf."

Danny blinked. "He starting his own zoo?"

"His own Ark," Rusty grinned.

"Oh." Danny considered this for a moment. "The parakeet and the chinchilla - " he began.

" - against nature?" Rusty asked.

"Slightly," he agreed. "You should talk to Ami."

Rusty paused. "Why me?" he asked.

He grimaced. "She'll assume I have an ulterior motive," he explained.

"We _do _have an ulterior motive," Rusty pointed out.

True. "She'll think _I _have a _different _ulterior motive," he explained further and Rusty got it.

"I'll talk to her," he agreed and obviously he was already figuring out what to say.

Danny gave it a moment. "Rus'?" he asked at last, innocently.

"Yeah?" Rusty asked absently.

"I'd lose the mouse before you go talk to her."

* * *

After quietly asking around, Rusty found Ami sitting by herself on a bench in an unused cloakroom.

She looked up, clearly startled when he sat down beside her, and she had been crying and doing her best not to.

"Hi," he said with a soft smile.

"Hello," she answered, sniffing slightly. "I'm sorry, Rusty, but I'm not in the mood for company right now."

"Lee is worried about you," he said quietly, jumping straight to the point.

"He sent you?" she asked sharply.

Yes, pretty much, but saying so would be a bad idea. "Not exactly," he temporized.

Didn't seem to matter; she wasn't exactly listening. "Is he very angry with me?"

He paused. "More hurt," he said truthfully. "And confused. Not angry."

"I didn't mean to hurt him," she moaned. "I should never have said 'yes' in the first place."

"Why did you?" he asked, and that was really the important question here.

She bit her lip. "Because I really wanted to."

"You want to go to the ball with Lee?" he blinked.

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "More than anything."

"Then what's the problem?" Seemed straightforward to him.

For a moment he thought she was going to start crying, and he wondered what he'd do, beyond pat her arm and offer her a tissue. "Because I _can't_" she gulped, getting herself under control.

"Is your mom saying you're not allowed?" he asked with a certain amount of sympathy. From what he'd seen, parents delighted in telling people what they could and couldn't do. His rules weren't so complicated.

She glared at him. "No! Mom would never say that!"

"Then what," he pressed gently, his voice low and his eyes sincere, and it seemed as though she wanted to talk and he was good at listening.

"Promise you won't tell Lee?" she asked. "Or spread it around the school?"

"I promise," he nodded and meant it.

"I don't have a dress," she admitted quickly.

He blinked. That was it? "Can't you get a new one?" he suggested, keeping the compassion in his voice with an effort.

Her lip was wobbling. "No. No, I . . . things have been difficult since Dad got sick. I can't ask Mom for money. And I don't get an allowance. So I'm not going to be able to buy one, and I can't go to the ball, and even if I could, I can't dance, and Lee's never going to ask me out _again."_ Her voice was trembling and filled with misery and despair.

Oh, that was _it. _He snapped. "That's completely ridiculous."

She stared at him. "I _can't_ ask Mom," she insisted wildly.

"Not what I meant," he said immediately. "You don't want to burden your parents, I get it. That part's fine, that part's admirable. But why does that mean _you _can't have any money?"

She was still staring. "What?"

"When me and Danny need money, we go out and get some," he explained. "Otherwise we'd never have any either." If anyone was to ask Danny's parents they'd probably insist that Danny got a generous weekly allowance. And probably they didn't even realise that it had been a good year or so since either of them had actually remembered to _give _Danny his allowance. And Danny was never going to go to them and ask for money. As for Rusty, well, he didn't particularly want to imagine what Dad would say (_do_) if he walked up to him and asked for pocket money. No. They did their best with what they had and had as much fun as possible.

"How?" Ami asked, wide-eyed.

Oh, he wished she hadn't asked that. "Probably no way you want to try," he admitted with a grin. "We play to what we're good at. You should do the same."

"But I'm not good at anything that could get money," she protested.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and wondered why more people didn't try and fend for themselves. Okay. He could think about this for her. "You speak Japanese, don't you?" he began.

Surprised, she nodded. "Yes. Also Chinese, Spanish and Portugeses."

Okay. That was impressive. "Really?"

"Yes," she smiled slightly, obviously enjoying the look on his face. "My parents are interpreters. They used to work for the Foreign Service. They met at the American Embassy in London."

He frowned. "They speak English in London."

"Yes?" she looked at him uncertainly.

"Then why . . . " He shook his head. "Never mind. My point was that probably people would be willing to pay money for language lessons. If you put adverts up. People like learning exotic things. Two months, you could make enough easy."

She was staring at him again. "You really think so?"

"Yeah." Seemed obvious to him.

"But who would pay for that kind of lesson?" she wondered.

"Well, I would," he admitted after a moment's thought. Being able to speak another language seemed like it would be useful. Or at least interesting. He'd settle for either.

She nodded thoughtfully and it seemed as though she was thinking about it. Seemed as though she was at least admitting she had options. "I still don't know how to dance," she said slowly. This time he did roll his eyes. "_But_," she went on determinedly, glancing at him. "I suppose I could . . find someone to teach me?"

"That's right," he smiled. "Danny can, if you don't know anyone else." Not like Danny would object. Danny liked girls. And Ami was pretty.

She smiled at him suddenly. "Thank you, Rusty," she said sincerely. "You've given me a lot to think about."

He nodded. "Good," he said and meant it. "Is there anything I can tell Lee?"

She stood up, looking resolute. "_I _will tell him that I will go to the Ball with him," she announced.

"Fantastic," he grinned. More than pretty.

She looked at him for a long moment, before she left, as if she was trying to puzzle something out. In the end, she shook her head absently and walked away.

He managed to catch up with Danny just before the bell rang for the end of lunch and quickly told him what had happened.

Danny nodded slowly. "Now _that's _Cinderella."

Rusty frowned with feigned suspicion. "Wait, who's the necrophiliac?"

* * *

Lee had been almost frighteningly happy when they'd stopped by after the after-school science club. Apparently Ami had asked him to the ball last class of the day, and he was consequently dancing on air and he hadn't stopped thanking them. Which was as it should be. Rusty's best efforts had been impossible.

At any rate Lee had proudly handed them a set of test tubes, a couple of vials of powder and a careful explanation of exactly what would happen when they were mixed together. Personally Danny was wondering if it could work on a larger scale. He could see uses for their own, personal smoke-maker. Not least that it would look incredibly cool. In the meantime they were getting somewhere and they were having fun and they stowed the test tubes in the abandoned house with the spinning wheel, raided his parents' fridge for leftovers and headed back to the school in search of fame and fortune, or a guitar at the very least.

And that was where they hit a snag. A snag in the form of Hutchins the janitor, camped out in the middle of the music corridor, listening to the radio.

"What's he doing?" he hissed in Rusty' ear as they stood at the top of the stairwell, peering round the edge of the doorway at Hutchin's back.

Rusty shrugged and was saved from having to answer by an announcement on the radio.

"_And we now take you to a very special program, Ol' Blue Eyes himself, Frank Sinatra will be singing live from The Desert Inn shortly, and first of all we're going to take you round a few of the more colourful nightspots in Las Vegas – America's Playground._"

Hutchins rubbed his hands together and Danny had never seen him smile like that before.

"We've got a problem," he told Rusty in a whisper.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll do 'My Way'," Rusty reassured him.

"That's not actually the problem I was thinking of," he sighed, and frowned. "You think so though?"

Rusty grinned. "Bound to."

Huh. They should probably try to get home in time to hear that.

"We could just come back another night," Rusty offered.

They could. Trouble was they had no ideas with the sword, no way of knowing how much it was going to take. "We need to get this over with," he decided.

Rusty nodded. "Distraction then."

He considered. "If he was doing his job - "

" - he could even take his radio - "

" - just to get him - "

" - someplace else."

They looked up the stairwell, at the girls restroom on the landing at the top.

"Water flows downhill," Danny said thoughtfully.

A quick exchange of looks and they were tiptoeing up the stairs at a run and Danny started blocking up the sinks.

"No," Rusty objected.

Surprised, he turned round, and saw Rusty was crouching down and examining the pipes under the sinks. "What?"

"It'll take too long your way," Rusty explained and with a slightly uncertain expression which made Danny nervous, he reached out, unscrewed something, and pulled firmly on a pipe.

They _just _managed to dodge the ensuing jet of water.

Danny watched as Rusty fixed – broke – the other two sinks, and by the time they darted back down the stairs and hid on the bottom landing, the water was already pooling round their feet.

They stood and watched the water make it's gradual way down the stairs. It was a very long twenty minutes.

"How much longer do you reckon," he asked presently.

Rusty shrugged. "Five minutes? Maybe?"

He nodded and was about to answer when they heard a shout from the corridor.

"Jesus _Christ."_ Hutchins sounded very, very unhappy.

He couldn't help it; he risked a glance out the doorway.

Oh.

Oh, they were in _trouble._

Water was pouring from the ceiling, bits of plaster and pieces of ceiling tile littered the floor, and Hutchins was standing in the middle of it all looking stunned.

"We broke the school!" he hissed and Rusty grabbed his arm and they were further down the stairs just in time to see Hutchins come running into the stairwell and up towards the restroom.

"It'll take a while for him to get the water off," Rusty whispered.

Danny nodded. They might as well get what they'd come here for.

Picking their way through the flood corridor, Rusty got the store cupboard door open faster than Danny had ever seen him manage before. They grabbed a battered guitar from the very back, shut the cupboard up again and hightailed it out of the school, closer to panic than they'd been for a while.

They stopped running a couple of streets later and looked at each other. Oh, they'd messed up. They'd messed up and he couldn't stop feeling guilty.

Rusty nodded, agreeing. "Nothing we can do about it though."

"Let's not do it again," Danny suggested.

"Yeah," Rusty sighed. "Sinatra?"

They walked to Danny's house in silence.

* * *

Next day it seemed the sole conversation was the flood. How some vandals had destroyed a restroom. How many days, weeks, months the music department was likely to be closed for. How many hundreds, thousands, millions of dollars it was all going to take to fix. What they were going to do to the culprits when they caught them. Even allowing for a fantastic degree of exaggeration, Rusty figured that they'd caused a hell of a lot more trouble than they'd ever intended. And he felt a little bit guilty and a lot annoyed. It had been an accident, and if they were going to engage in wholesale destruction, he wanted there to be a better plan and a better reason.

He spent the morning trying to figure exactly what to say if he was called out of class, wondering all the time if Danny had already been blamed, and it was so difficult to suppress the need to run and check, make sure Danny was still fine.

By lunchtime however, nothing had happened, and Danny breathed a sigh of relief on seeing him, and Rusty could see he'd spent the morning with the same thoughts and worries. But there was nothing. They were both fine.

"Not like anyone could know," he pointed out quietly and Danny nodded his agreement.

"Nah. We're good."

They sat at their normal table and Rusty picked apart a cheese sandwich with absent-minded determination.

"What?" Danny asked after a moment.

"Sword," he sighed. He had no ideas.

Danny nodded. "We're - "

" - nowhere," he finished glumly.

They smiled casually at Doug Fletcher and Ritchie Sinclair who sat down next to them.

"Where do you even get a sword," he asked frustrated.

Danny shrugged. "Armoury?"

"Of course." That was helpful.

"You're looking for a sword?" Doug spoke up. "I know someone who's got one."

"Who?" Danny asked, and they both looked at Doug intently.

Doug blinked. "He showed it to me a few weeks ago."

"Who?" Rusty repeated patiently.

"Think his dad brought it back from Toledo or something," Doug explained further.

"_Who_?" they demanded in unison.

With a sigh, Doug stared past them. "You're not going to like it," he warned.

Rusty craned round to follow his gaze. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he groaned.

On the other side of the cafeteria, Norris Carroll ate his burger obliviously.

* * *

Danny waited patiently in the corridor after his last class of the day, until Norris had finished teasing his friends. Or harassing his minions. However you wanted to look at it.

They'd agreed that it would be best if only one of them talked to Norris. Both of them and he'd be on the defensive, would assume they were up to something, trying to trick him or strong-arm him. Just Rusty and Norris would be the one trying to bully, trying to intimidate, and just because Danny knew that he'd never succeed didn't make that acceptable in any way. No, it needed to be him. Him and he could be distantly friendly and respectful. Him, and he could treat Norris like an equal and expect the same in return. And that was the trick. Because he was going to try simply _asking._

Eventually, Norris watched the other boys head down the stairs and turned to glare at Danny. "What do you want, Ocean?"

"Just looking for a favour, Norris," he said easily.

"A favour." Norris laughed incredulously. "A favour?"

This was not going like he'd hoped. "A trade, perhaps," he clarified. Not like they weren't prepared to give Norris something in return. Money, maybe. Money they could do easy.

"You think I'm going to do you a favour? You think I'm going to give you anything?" Norris was actually snarling. "You think I want anything from you? I hate you, remember? I hate you and you hate me, and that's exactly the way it should be."

Danny blinked slowly. "You think I hate you?" He didn't. He didn't like the other boy; not in the slightest, and he still remembered the look on Norris' face six months back when he'd sat in math class while Norris whispered next to him _"Hey, Ocean. Just come from seeing your little friend. Cries a lot, doesn't he? I only hit him a few times." _And if anything he'd said had been true, then things would have been different. But Norris had been lying, and Norris was small and Norris was _nothing_ to him. Hate Norris? Hate Norris like he hated . . . he was never going to wake up in the middle of the night overwhelmed with dreams of anger and fear because of _Norris_. He was never going to have to stand in front of Norris and bite his tongue, literally bite his tongue until he tasted blood, because if he didn't then the truth might scream its way out. He was never going to find himself lying in the dark, listening to Rusty's uneven, frightened breathing, fantasising about waiting for _Norris_ in a dark alley. Hate Norris? Not even close. He knew what hatred tasted like.

Norris was staring at him, his face twisted. "I know you do," he growled and he knew nothing.

It was a good thing he hadn't actually said what they wanted.

They were going to need to do this the fun way.

They'd wanted to give him a chance.

* * *

Rusty leaned on the wall outside the school, lit a cigarette and wondered how Danny was getting on. He didn't honestly think this was going to work. Didn't think that there was the slightest possibility of Norris going along with them. And he knew that Danny was only slightly more optimistic, but he knew why they'd had to try. This wasn't them exacting revenge or taking something of no consequence. From what Doug had said, this sword mattered to Norris. And even if they didn't like him much, and even if they were going to give it back in a couple of days, no harm no foul, it was still important for them to _try_.

He looked up in time to see Annette Darcey walking down the hill towards him and then she vanished behind the building. Be a couple of moments before she reappeared. He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here. And if he should try and persuade her to stick around until Danny turned up. Difficult to judge. Shaking his head, he went back to considering what their next step should be when Norris inevitably turned them down. They had the beginnings of a plan . . . actually, no. That was the problem. They had the middle and the end of a plan. The beginning was what was giving them problems.

Annette stepped round the corner and smiled at him awkwardly. "Hi," she muttered, before reaching into her purse and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

He smiled absently back and wondered if it would work if they annoyed Norris enough. If they could anger him into wanting to be competitive, wanting to prove he was better than them.

"Got a light?" Annette asked, after a moment searching through her bag, neatly interrupting his train of thought.

Sighing to himself, he leaned forwards and lit her cigarette for her. "Here."

"Thanks," she smiled, inhaling and ending with something that sounded suspiciously like a cough.

"I'm waiting for my mom," Annette announced. "She's in seeing Celeste's teacher. Since Aunty Marissa can't leave the house." She leaned in close to him. "She's got a new nose, but don't tell anyone."

He blinked. "What happened to the old one?" he asked.

Annette shrugged. "She didn't like it."

Nodding, he decided that probably making Norris mad at them was a bad idea. Far, far too many ways it could go wrong.

Annette was looking at him sideways. "You're Danny's friend, aren't you. Danny Ocean, I mean."

Huh. Somehow he thought that maybe he should be giving this conversation more of his attention. "You looking for him?"

"No," she shook her head. "No. Just wondering."

"Yes," he told her evenly. "Me and Danny are friends."

She nodded slowly and she was still looking at him, as if she was trying to figure him out. "My mom says you're a bad influence on Danny. She says that you cling to Danny and bring him down to your level and it's disgusting. She says that if you were hanging around her child she'd soon teach you your place."

He thought about Juliet Darcey and wasn't surprised. And Annette wasn't trying to hurt him, wasn't even thinking that her words could hurt him. Which they couldn't. There was nothing in her voice but puzzled curiosity. "Really," he said, as if the subject bored him.

"Yes," she said, and her eyes were raking over his clothes and he wasn't embarrassed. "She says you're – poor."

He smiled sardonically. "I bet that's not the word she used."

She flushed slightly. "Trailer trash," she said quietly.

"I live in an apartment," he told her.

There was a pause. "My mom's wrong sometimes," Annette blurted out. "She's . . . she can be a little bit of a snob."

He didn't say anything. Didn't react. Certainly didn't agree; that was the last thing that she wanted.

"It's not like she's a bad person," Annette went on after a second. "It's just that she assumes she's always right. And that's annoying. I don't think you're bad like she says. I mean, you're just a kid. You can't be a . . . what she says."

He nodded and didn't ask. Not like he was crying out to be insulted.

"But I don't understand," she said slowly, her voice full of a different curiosity. "Why is Danny friends with you?"

"Because he likes me," he said simply. He was never going to explain – not to her and not to anyone – about miracles and magic.

She frowned. "But you're just a little kid, and Danny is . . . .Danny is Danny. I mean, he could be hanging out with anyone. Celeste says everyone in school thinks he's cool and amazing."

"He likes me," he repeated and he hated the edge to his voice.

She still looked unconvinced and she opened her mouth, obviously about to say something else, when suddenly she paled and stared over his head, up the hill. "Mom!" she gasped.

He turned in time to see Juliet Darcey disappear behind the building.

"She saw me!" Annette moaned. "She saw me smoking. She's going to _kill _me."

She looked frightened and miserable and it was obvious she'd never dreamed of consequences. He sighed and grabbed the cigarette out of her hand and threw it on the ground. "Stamp on it, he ordered tersely.

Looking bewildered, she did as she was told. He threw his own cigarette over the wall, pulled her purse out of her hand, found her pack of cigarettes and stuffed them into his pocket.

Finding a pack of mints, he thrust them into her hand. "Take one," he commanded and gave her her purse back. "And start yelling at me."

"What?" she asked, her voice high and panicked.

"Which of us is your mom more likely to believe the worst of?" he demanded. "You caught me smoking, made me stop and are giving me a lecture on it. Your mom can't possibly have seen enough to be certain at that distance. You know she hates me. We can make this work."

She bit her lip and nodded. "It's a disgusting habit," she said loudly and he had to say her impression of her mother was pretty good. "You should be ashamed of yourself. I really don't know why your parents don't - "

" - Annette," Juliet Darcey cut in, stepping round the corner in time to see her daughter towering over Rusty, her finger waving in his face. She blinked. "What's going on here?" she asked, in a slightly less querulous tone of voice.

Annette looked round at her mother. "I caught this boy _smoking, _mother," she said. "I was just explaining that it's wrong. Just like you always told me. He actually offered _me _one."

He watched as Juliet Darcey's narrowed eyes slipped between them, not looking for truth so much as looking for what she wanted to believe. Her daughter hadn't done anything wrong. Rusty was foul and worthless.

He kept his head down and looked up at her sullenly as she stepped towards him, looked down at him like he was some repulsive insect. "You disgusting boy," she hissed, fury in her voice, and he wasn't going to run - he was not going to run - because there was nothing to be afraid of. "You insignificant little worm. How dare you? How dare you even talk to my daughter, let alone try to corrupt her the way you've corrupted Daniel. Do you think no one sees what you're doing? Fawning over him. Bringing him down to your paltry, sordid level. If I was Barbara, I'd soon send you packing."

"I'm sorry," he said meek and angry his eyes fixed on her shoes.

That just seemed to make her even angrier, and she took a step impossibly closer, and the trembling started deep inside, and still, he was almost certain that she wasn't actually going to hit him. And if she did, he'd never let her see that it hurt. "That act doesn't fool me in the slightest! I know what you are. I see you strutting around the neighbourhood, showing off your bruises. How many fights have you been in, this month alone? You think violence solves all your problems, don't you? Oh, Barbara's told me all about you. Your mother is a drunken prostitute and your father is a worthless thug and that's all you have to look forward to. You'll never be more than them."

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please. No.

She stepped forwards, roughly grabbed his chin, angrily wrenched his head up to face her, and he would never let her see that it hurt, even if that's what she wanted. "You are worthless. And you disgust me. And if I ever see you talking to my daughter again, I'll make you wish you'd never been born." She let go of his face and he stumbled and had to take a step backwards to stop himself from falling. "Don't think that Barbara isn't going to hear about this," she hissed. "I'm sure she'll be interested in knowing just what the _scum_ that she lets roam around her house and our neighbourhood has been doing _this_ time."

"I'm sorry," he said again and his voice was polite and respectful and the anger and defiance was nowhere. He had no doubt she'd tell Danny's mom. He had no doubt she'd take great pleasure in telling Danny's mom. But they could deal with that. They'd dealt with that before and they'd deal with it again, and Danny _liked _him.

She gave a contemptuous sniff and turned on her heel, walking away. "Come on, Annette."

Annette, face pale, eyes wide and horrified, paused for a few seconds, watching until her mother was out of sight, vanished behind the building. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He smiled at her. "It's okay," he promised and she ran after her mother.

Sighing he leaned back against the wall. Okay. Norris Carroll. That's what he had to think about. There had to be a way to make this work, and it would be nice if he already had the whole plan ready to lay out as soon as Danny came back and told him that Norris had turned them down.

Distracted, he didn't even realise that Annette had come back until she darted up to him, until her mouth was on his, until they were _kissing._

Huh.

* * *

Rusty was being quiet and Danny didn't like it. It was the wrong kind of silence. Not the worst kind of silence, not the silence that echoed back to Quiet Days and fear and hiding, but it wasn't the comfortable, easy silence he expected either.

He'd found Rusty waiting outside the gate, exactly where they'd agreed, and he'd told Rusty that Norris wasn't going to help, and Rusty had just nodded and said nothing.

They'd walked round to Mabel's, barely exchanging more than a few words, and Danny had nodded to Mabel significantly when they ordered food, and he knew that she'd leave them alone.

He talked. Kept the conversation light. Affected not to notice that Rusty was distracted. "So we've got the test tubes, the spinning wheel, the wedding dress and the guitar. And Norris has the sword."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, his fingers at his mouth, his mind a thousand miles away.

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "And the elephant. I mean, where do we even start looking?"

"Well, the zo . . . " Rusty started and then frowned. "I'm paying attention."

"Uh huh," Danny nodded and took a sip of coffee and worried. "Gonna tell me what's going on?"

Rusty turned and stared out the window. "I kissed a girl," he said eventually.

Danny blinked. "Oh," he said. He didn't quite know what to say. Wasn't like the subject had ever come up before, precisely. It wasn't just that Rusty hadn't ever kissed a girl before, he hadn't even expressed an _interest_ in kissing girls. Regarded Danny's interests and pursuits with tolerant amusement.

"Well," Rusty clarified. "She kissed me."

Danny felt himself start to smile. "She - "

" - yeah. Think she felt sorry for me or something. Her mom just got through yelling at me."

He felt his smile freeze and he caught the flicker of amusement as Rusty watched him try to sort out the joint and conflicting needs-to-know. Okay. He sighed and he was always going to chase down the thing that was bothering Rusty most. "Did she - "

" - yeah," Rusty cut in quickly.

"Wasn't pity then," he said firmly, shaking his head. "Girls don't kiss like that because they feel sorry for you."

"Oh," Rusty's voice was quiet and reflective.

"Did you like it?" Danny asked curiously.

There was a long moment of consideration. "Yes," Rusty decided eventually.

"Oh, good." Danny smiled. "Nice to know that the people who've been kissing since the dawn of time have got your support."

He enjoyed the sight of the grin. "There are people who have been kissing since the beginning of time? Aren't they getting tired yet?"

"So, this girl," Danny began brightly. "Do we know her?" His eyes narrowed at the sudden spasm of reluctance. "I mean, obviously one of us knows her slightly better than the other, but - "

" - no," Rusty interrupted.

Danny paused. "No what?"

"No, one of us doesn't know her better than the other," Rusty clarified, and he was looking out the window again, looking anywhere but at Danny, in fact. "Annette Darcey."

Oh. Annette Darcey. Rusty had kissed Annette Darcey. Or, rather, the other way round. And suddenly a lot of things made sense. Because eighteen months or so ago, at a piano recital that had brought him to new and previously uncharted levels of boredom, he had got talking to Annette in the cloakroom. And she'd shyly admitted that she'd never kissed a boy before, and he'd never kissed a girl, and hidden behind a pile of coats, they'd explored a whole new world and it had been fantastic.

Annette had been his first kiss. And now she'd been Rusty's first kiss. What, was she starting a collection?

Rusty still wasn't looking at him and that was unbearable. "Rus'," he said quietly, and the look that was turned on him was frighteningly apprehensive. He took a deep breath. "You think I'd be mad at you for this?" The pain and disbelief cut into him like a knife.

Rusty blinked. "I kissed - "

" - you did," he agreed.

"It's - "Rusty tried to explain.

" - it is," he nodded. And it was. "Don't think we should make a _habit_ of it. But it's okay."

"Yeah?" Rusty asked hopefully.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

Rusty sighed. "Girls are - "

" - sure," he nodded with an easy smile.

"But they can also be - "

" - that's right."

Rusty sighed harder and Danny got the impression that he wasn't exactly in a hurry to go out and start kissing girls for fun.

He leaned forwards and the next time he spoke his voice was bright with anger. "So. Juliet Darcey?"

* * *

They'd spent the remains of the day in laziness, just enjoying themselves, being together and doing nothing. Once he'd managed to talk Danny a little way past his immediate anger and rage and helpless need to do something, that is. Once he'd managed to persuade Danny that there was nothing they could, should, do. That revenge wasn't an option. Once he'd got through trying to persuade Danny that it wasn't so very bad and that words didn't matter. Once he himself had finished leaning against Danny's shoulder and taking comfort in the simple truth that Danny liked him. Once they were done with all that, relaxation had been the object, and only a couple of times had their thoughts even turned to just how they were going to get Norris Carroll's sword.

It wasn't until lunchtime the next day, when they were sitting in the cafeteria, having just given Mike a progress report, that they moved on to the question of exactly how to persuade Norris that playing poker with them was the best idea he'd ever had.

"It shouldn't be us," Danny said suddenly.

Rusty looked at him and waited.

"What does Norris want?" Danny went on.

"Not to look stupid," Rusty answered promptly. "Which is - "

" - never going to happen," Danny agreed. "But he wants to be the big man. He wants to be popular."

He grinned with dawning understanding. "So if he thought - "

" - poker game - " Danny nodded.

" - with the cool kids - "

" - oh, that's - "

" - completely," he agreed and he leaned back in his chair with a smile.

Mike coughed politely. "So we can get the sword?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "No problem."

"A few problems," Rusty pointed out. "But we'll get there."

"Soon as we figure out who the cool kids are," Danny smiled.

John leaned forwards. "Other than you two, you mean?"

Rusty laughed. Danny shook his head. "Seriously, what do you think?"

"Football team?" Rusty suggested, glancing to the other side of the canteen.

Danny nodded slowly. "Could work."

Rusty sighed. "They're going to - "

" - bound to," Danny agreed with a grimace.

They stood up and started to walk away and Mike sighed behind them. "Still can't believe that your mom doesn't mind us throwing paint on her wedding dress."

They froze and looked at each other for a long moment. Then they turned round very, very slowly. "What?" Danny asked carefully.

"You know. At the end with the . . . " Mike seemed to read something in their expressions. "I told you about that, right?"

"No," Rusty said slowly. "No, you didn't."

Danny grimaced. "We can't - "

" - we can't," Rusty agreed immediately. He sighed and looked at Mike. "We'll get back to you," he said and they walked off.

* * *

As they'd thought, the football team wanted something. The moment they walked up to The Hulk and Jake Price and said they needed a favour, the two footballers looked at each other and frowned. "What are you going to do for us?" The Hulk demanded.

Rusty was aware of Danny biting back a groan, and he himself had to hide the smile. Seemed no one was willing to help a friend just for the hell of it. "What do you want?" he asked.

"We got this game with Hill Street coming up," Jake told them. "We heard they got some new plays. New players. We want to know what they've got and what we need to worry about."

"You can find out for us," The Hulk said, clearly needing it spelled out.

"They're playing tonight," Jake added.

"You can go watch them," The Hulk explained carefully.

He glanced sideways at Danny. They could. They would. "We will," they said in unison.

* * *

They'd skipped the last hour of the day and caught a train across town to Hill Street in time for football practice. Sneaking into the dressing rooms and getting a look at the flip-charts and the diagrams was easy enough. And Rusty would be able to redraw them later, no problem.

Now, hiding under the bleachers, Danny watched the Hill Street team run round and round after the ball and took notes.

"Don't think our team has a hope," Rusty commented after ten minutes.

Danny looked at them thoughtfully. "Well, this lot are faster. And stronger. And bigger. And they're dropping the ball less often."

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "But I suppose our lot have more heart."

"And they're cheating," Danny added. "That's got to count for something."

"They take it seriously," Rusty commented thoughtfully.

Danny looked away from the sight of the field for a moment. "What?"

"Well, Mike wanting us to get all this stuff in the first place. Jake and The Hulk wanting us to get info on the opposing team. Just wonder what it's like to take something that seriously."

He paused and considered. "Are you suggesting that we should get a hobby?"

Rusty shrugged. "Lot of people seem to find something to care about. Football or plays or whatever."

"Not interested in anything like that," Danny pointed out. "And it's not like we'd have time." Just living took up enough time.

"Yeah," Rusty smiled. "You want to just keep on as we are?"

"Why not?" Danny said lightly. For as long as possible. Forever, if he had his way.

* * *

Teaching the football team to play poker took about three hours. Three very long hours. Coaching Jake on what to say to rope Norris into inviting them round the next evening took another half hour. Explaining to The Hulk why he couldn't be the one to talk to Norris took a good twenty minutes. Explaining the plan _generally_ took an hour.

The Hulk ended up frowning at them. "So I get to win, right?"

"Right," Danny agreed with a smile.

"But you get the sword," The Hulk went on, the frown deepening.

"Uh huh," Rusty nodded calmly. That was the point.

There was a pause as The Hulk put his thoughts in order. "So why don't you just win?" he asked at last. "If you're fixing it anyway?"

Danny smiled a little more. "Because if _we_ win, he'll kill us. If _you_ win, he won't dare."

The Hulk's eyebrows knitted together threateningly. "That's not right," he said heavily. "He shouldn't try and hurt you. Just cos you win something off him, fair and square."

"But it's not fair and square, David," Jake said patiently. "They're going to be cheating."

The Hulk had taken a deep breath and Rusty had cut in hastily before the argument got anywhere and got them focussed again on exactly how to recognise a straight.

* * *

It was about half ten when they got back to Danny's house and stood outside. Two cars in the driveway. All the lights were on. Everything was very quiet.

"Too quiet," Danny said softly.

He nodded. There was a definite feeling of anticipation. "Think they're waiting for you?" he asked quietly

"Yeah," Danny nodded tersely. "Rus', you can't - "

" - I know," he cut in, and Danny looked miserable. "I'll be fine," he promised. "It's you - "

" - I'll keep my head down," Danny promised him back.

They looked at each other for a long moment, as if they were trying to engrave every last detail into their memories, and walked away from each other.

Danny wished he didn't have to walk into the living room. Wished he could just run upstairs and pretend that he didn't know his parents were lying in wait. Wished that he didn't know what they wanted to talk to him about. Wished, more than anything, wished, that Rusty was safe.

With a deep breath, he pushed the door open. His parents were sitting at opposite sides of the room, and they didn't look happy to see him.

"Come in, Daniel, and close the door behind you," Mom said stiffly.

He obeyed. Stood against the door. Waited.

"Your father tells me that Robert stayed the night on Monday," Mom began. "Is this true?"

He didn't have many options. "Yes," he admitted simply.

Her face twisted. "Daniel, we've talked about this before. You're not allowed to have friends over without asking permission first."

"And I'm not allowed to have Rusty over at all, right?" he asked with a smile.

Dad sighed. "Danny, no one wants to take away your friend," he said, carefully not looking at Danny's Mom. "But it's not acceptable for Rusty to spend all his time over here. Don't you think his father might worry?"

Danny stared and Dad had the grace to look away.

"Do not start that again, Daniel," Mom snapped. "You've been thoughtless, inconsiderate and rude. The pair of you. I do _not_ want that boy hanging around here. People are talking, Daniel. And Juliet Darcey says he tried to force her daughter to smoke."

"More likely the other way round," Danny said with a short laugh. "Annette Darcey smokes like a chimney." He watched Mom's eyes light up at the gossip and told himself that he wasn't actually getting Annette into trouble. After all, he knew that Juliet Darcey wouldn't believe it from him. Or from Mom.

"Be that as it may," she said slowly and awfully. "Robert is a bad influence and I will not have the neighbours thinking that I can't control you."

"A bad influence?" he echoed involuntarily, his mouth tight, his body tense with anger.

"He is _beneath_ you, Daniel. You need to cultivate other interests and more appropriate companions - "

" - he's my friend," Danny interrupted shortly.

Dad cleared his throat. "As I said, Danny. No one is trying to take your friend away from you. Though I agree with your mother; it would be good idea for you to expand your circle of friends."

Mom glared at Dad. "Oh, you agree with me, do you?"

"Not now," Dad snapped and Danny stared at the floor for a few moments as they argued like they'd forgotten he was there.

Eventually they turned back to look at him, and Mom's face was still alight with anger. "You will not bring Robert around here anymore," she snapped. "I don't even want you talking to him, do you understand? You're bad enough on your own. You need to learn discipline, young man. You need to learn to respect your elders and betters. You need to learn to be grateful and obedient and maybe then you'll stop being such a source of humiliation and disappointment to the people that love you."

It didn't hurt. Of course it didn't hurt. Why would it hurt? He glanced sideways, but Dad's mouth was firmly closed, and he didn't look like he was in any hurry to disagree with Mom. Didn't look like defending Danny was high up his list of priorities.

"You've been running wild all this week, Daniel," Mom went on. "Coming in late, not coming home straight after school. People have _noticed_. People are talking. And I will not have it."

"Really, Danny, it's not on," Dad said, stern and infinitely more gentle. "What do you have to say for yourself."

He kept his head down. "We - _I've_ – been helping out with the school play all week."

There was a startled silence. "Really?" Mom asked suspiciously.

"Yeah," he said, looking up and looking surprised, as if it were obviously true.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked with a slight smile.

Danny shrugged. "Backstage stuff. Producing, really. But it's going really well." He smiled enthusiastically. "It's going to be fantastic."

Dad looked strangely happy. "Well, I'm glad to hear you've been doing something productive, Danny. Well done."

"You should have told us before, Daniel," Mom said, her lips pursed. "I could have had something to tell the neighbours."

"When is this play?" Dad asked.

"Friday night," Danny told him with a frown.

"Oh," Dad said thoughtfully. "I should be able to come and see it."

Danny blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, of course." Dad sounded surprised. "Since it's important to you."

"You don't have to work late or anything?" Danny asked hesitantly.

"No," Dad smiled reassuringly but he looked a little sad. "I'll be there. I promise."

"I'll be there too," Mom cut in, glaring at Dad.

Dad smiled unpleasantly at her. "Are you sure you can spare time out of your busy schedule? I'm sure Danny would hate to disrupt your social life."

"I don't have any plans for Friday," Mom snapped, rounding on him. "Not that it's any of your business."

Danny cleared his throat. "I'm just going upstairs," he said quietly. He didn't think they heard him. At any rate they didn't pay any attention. Or they didn't care.

He crept out of the room, and went upstairs as quietly as possible. The yelling erupted behind him. He curled up in bed, lonely and hating it, and wished he was with Rusty.

* * *

The apartment was cold and dark when he got in, much to his relief. No sign of Dad, and that could only be a good thing.

Hitting the light-switch, he discovered that the electricity had been cut off again. He sighed. Not much point in staying up in the dark. He took a bag of cookies from the cupboard and went to bed.

He was woken up a couple of hours later by the front door opening and the sound of loud, angry voices spilling into the apartment.

Dad was home. Dad was home and he'd brought friends.

There was the sound of glass breaking. The sound of drunken laughter. The sound of something – someone – crashing against his bedroom wall.

He bit his lip as hard as he could. He couldn't make a sound. He must not make a sound. Mustn't draw attention to himself, mustn't let them know he was here, mustn't let them know he existed, or it would . . . it would be bad. It would be bad and painful and awful and he wasn't going to go through it again.

Getting out of bed as quietly as possible, trying to pretend to himself that he wasn't shaking, he started to push his bed up against the door. Some kind of barricade. That's what he needed. There was another crash, this time against his door, and he flinched and started trembling that bit harder.

Finally, he got the bed in place. It wasn't enough. Not really. Dad, or his friends would be able to push that aside easy, if they wanted to. If they tried. He looked round the room and quickly snatched up a couple of cardboard boxes of clothes and books, and dumped them on top of the mattress. It might help. Might do. Might just give him enough time, while they tried to get through the door, to scramble out of the window and escape. He could only hope.

Pulling the blanket off the bed, he went and curled up under the window, lonely and hating it. He wished he was with Danny.

* * *

When he got to the Crossroads Diner the next morning, Rusty was already there, sitting at a table in the back, his head down on the table, on his outstretched arms, an untouched milkshake in front of him.

Danny ordered a coffee and settled down in the seat opposite. This place wasn't nearly as nice as Mabel's. The food wasn't so good. The company wasn't as friendly. But no one knew them here and no one cared, and though they'd never tried it, they were pretty sure that Mabel would have something to say if they showed up when they were supposed to be in school. And they weren't going to be in school today. Because they needed to get enough money to finance the football team's attempts to play poker, and they needed to find a wedding dress, and none of that could be accomplished by sitting in history class.

Rusty acknowledged him without actually raising his head, and Danny sighed and surreptitiously looked him over. He couldn't see any injuries and he gave up on subtlety and looked openly. He still couldn't see anything.

After a moment, Rusty sat up and smiled. "Rough night?" he asked lightly, taking a sip of milkshake.

Danny shrugged and wished he'd asked first. "Just loud," he said. "You?"

"Same." Rusty said, stretching as if it hurt. "They - "

" - nothing new," Danny told him. "Just the usual. Nothing I haven't heard before. Nothing we haven't dealt with before."

Rusty nodded slowly. "We lying low for a bit?"

"They don't want to _see_ you," Danny agreed.

"They don't want _you_ to see me," Rusty corrected astutely.

Danny shrugged. "Well, that's the way it goes sometimes. They're out of luck." He wasn't going to give up Rusty. Not for his parents. Not for anything.

Rusty smiled at him and put his head back down on his arms.

"Just the usual?" Danny asked after a moment.

"What's usual?" Rusty answered vacantly.

He nodded resignedly and sipped at his coffee.

* * *

Four o'clock and they were in Mabel's, having spent the past seven hours travelling to places in the city they'd never been to before and stealing as many wallets as possible before moving on. Probably tomorrow everywhere they'd been would be crawling with cops, but that was okay. They wouldn't need to be back for a bit. They'd just needed the extra money for tonight.

The last couple of hours they'd spent trudging round various thrift shops and second hand clothing stores, looking for anything that could even remotely be called a wedding dress. Eventually they'd struck . . . well, maybe not quite gold.

"It's a wedding dress," Rusty argued doubtfully, looking at the mass of white almost-silk spread over the table.

"It's got giant sunflowers on it," Danny pointed out, picking at the embroidery. "And the other side's all torn."

"You don't think Mike - "

" - he's going to want - "

" - well, we don't have - "

" - could you sew - "

" - by tomorrow?" Rusty frowned and shook his head. "Unlikely."

Danny sighed. "Well, we're stuck."

Rusty nodded and they sat in silence for a few moments until Mabel came over with their food. She smiled down at the sight of the wedding dress. "Something you want to tell me, boys?"

"We're helping out with the school play," Danny explained.

"Trying to help out," Rusty added.

"They need lots of - "

" - and a wedding dress - "

" - except they're going to - "

" - throw paint and so we found - "

" - but it's - "

" - daisies - "

" - sunflowers, and we can't - "

" - and there's a tear - "

" - and there's no _time," _Danny explained, a little wildly.

Mabel nodded, and smoothed out the wedding dress carefully. "You need it mended? And the embroidery unpicked? For tomorrow? I can do that."

There was a startled silence and then he and Rusty both spoke at once.

"Oh, Mabel, we weren't - "

" - we didn't mean - "

" - we'd _never_ - "

" - we weren't _asking," _he insisted emphatically.

She straightened up and looked at each of them in turn. "Think I don't know that? Oh, sweethearts, I _know_ you weren't asking for help. But you should've been."

Danny blinked. "Mabel?" he asked hesitantly, not really sure what she was meaning.

"I can do this for you," she said insistently. "Let me do this for you."

He glanced across the table at Rusty and caught the slight shrug and the faint smile. Wasn't like they had a lot of other choices. "Okay," he said with a sigh and smiled up at her. "Thank you, Mabel."

"Thank you," Rusty echoed.

She looked at them tenderly and picked up the dress. "Come by before school tomorrow and I'll have it ready for you," she promised.

* * *

At half seven, having distributed the money amongst the football team, and given last minute instructions, they stood behind Jake and The Hulk on Norris' front porch.

Rusty managed to resist the urge to look at Danny. This was really the first point where things could go disastrously wrong.

After a moment, Norris opened the door, a wide smile on his face. "Hi guys, great to . . . " he trailed off, glaring past the football players.

"Hi, Norris," Jake said carefully. "It's really good of you to invite us. My dad says we can't play at my house anymore." Not bad, Rusty thought. Maybe a little lacking in spontaneity, but at least he was remembering his lies.

Norris was still frowning. "What are_ they_ doing here?" he demanded, pointing at Rusty and Danny.

Jake shrugged. "They always play with us."

"They're cool," The Hulk rumbled.

Huh. An improvised lie from the most unlikely of corners.

"And we have the cards," Rusty added, holding a deck up by way of evidence.

"Can we come in or what?" The Hulk asked impatiently and with a grimace, Norris moved aside.

It was difficult not to show their relief as they followed Norris upstairs. There really had been a chance that he'd just refuse to let them in altogether. Fortunately he was out to impress.

The others – Eric, Sammy and Joe – were already there, sitting around Norris' bedroom, surrounded by snacks and soda. Rusty got the distinct impression that Norris had sent his mom out shopping.

He settled himself down and pulled some TastyKakes towards him. If he was going to have to listen to Eric and Sammy stammer their way through an explanation of the rules of the game, he was going to need some serious sugar reinforcements. After a second, Danny sat down next to him, and as Eric started talking, deliberately reached over him and took the snacks out of his reach. Oh. Oh, that was just mean. He tried to glare surreptitiously, but Danny was looking amused and annoying. He stared at the packet longingly, and felt his bottom lip quiver, just a little. With a sigh, and a look that proclaimed him a cheat, Danny passed the snacks back.

It was nice to win.

In the end, Norris seemed to pick up the rules faster than he would have expected. And, in the meantime, Jake had been looking round the room with an air of interest that was probably a little over-rehearsed. "Nice room, Norris." he said with carefully studied casualness. "Is that really a sword?" He nodded to the sword displayed on the wall over the desk; just where Doug had told them it would be.

Norris grinned. "Thanks. Yeah. My Dad got it for me. It's _genuine,"_ he boasted.

Genuine what? Rusty wondered. Beside him, Danny silently suggested that it was genuinely a sword.

"It's cool," The Hulk said, sounding impressed. "I wish that I had one."

Rusty resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. "We going to play?" he asked and there was a general movement of agreement.

Poker was fun when you knew how the cards were going to fall. He dealt. Twelve hands and the very least Norris got was a straight. They wanted him falling over himself with exuberance and overconfidence. That part was easy.

"I like this game," Norris giggled, pouring himself another glass of Dr Pepper.

The football players, who already knew what was coming, who weren't even playing with their own money, still looked disgruntled. More so than their acting talents had previously suggested. Apparently they just didn't like losing.

"Want to up the stakes?" Jake suggested, with a snarl that they hadn't practised.

"Sure!" Norris agreed. "Where's the harm, right?"

"Right," Danny nodded lightly. "It's only money."

Another ten hands and Norris was losing. Not disastrously, but definitely, and now he was getting any hand better than a pair of fives. The pile of money in front of him was getting smaller; the piles in front of the other footballers - especially The Hulk - were getting bigger. He and Danny weren't doing noticeably well. Good to avoid as much suspicion as possible.

One more hand till showtime and Norris was definitely struggling. Definitely sweating.

Eric frowned at Norris. "You don't have so much money anymore, you know," he said heavily and the taunt was audible and stupid.

"Shut up," Norris snapped. He glanced round the table and smiled wildly. "Still have enough to buy Ryan's mom. Right, Ryan?"

It hurt. It was stupid and it hurt and the pain of it burned somewhere deep inside him, and he still thought – knew – to reach out and grab Danny's arm, dig his fingers in, stop Danny from diving across the room and killing Norris.

No, he told them both, and buried the anger somewhere he'd never find it again. It wasn't what mattered.

"That's not cool, Norrie," The Hulk said, very, very quietly.

The room fell silent. Norris flushed red. "Yeah, well," he muttered.

Rusty's hands hovered over the cards. Danny was still coiled and tense and furious at his side. And right now he should be . . . right now he couldn't. Right now Danny's mind was nowhere near the con. Right now Danny was stuck on hurting, humiliating. He bit his lip and with a twist of his fingers and a stab of betrayal, gave Danny a three and a seven instead of the two aces Danny was expecting.

The look was subtle. The disbelief was painful. The anger froze his soul.

He dealt himself the cards Danny had been waiting for, took as much of Norris' money as was necessary and no more. Then, next hand, with Norris holding a heart flush and renewed confidence and The Hulk frowning at four kings and probably wondering why he couldn't have five, the stage was well and truly set.

"You need to stick in another ten if you want to stay in the game," he told Norris, quiet and disinterested.

Norris stared from his cards to his money. Clearly he didn't have another twenty. Clearly he didn't want this little fact to stop him.

"You could always throw something else in the pot," Sammy suggested, leaning against the bed, having folded some time ago. "Something of equal value. I won Jake's baseball mitt last month."

Jake glared at Sammy. "Too bad you still can't catch."

"I'll bet my sword," Norris said suddenly. "If you win, you get to keep it. Okay, David?" he asked, looking at The Hulk.

Rusty's mind went blank. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. They were supposed to steer him in the right direction. Get him to offer a loan of the sword. They weren't supposed to just take his treasure. Hell.

"Fine," The Hulk said immediately, probably relieved that no more lying was called for.

Numbly, Rusty watched as the cards were laid out, as Norris' expression dissolved into horror and disbelief, as The Hulk took all of the money and the sword with a satisfied smile.

Beside him, Danny was grinning invisibly.

Apparently he and Norris were alone in seeing a problem.

* * *

They walked to the abandoned house in silence and he didn't look at Rusty once. Not once. If they were going to argue, they were going to argue somewhere that no one would overhear. Somewhere that at least felt safe.

Still. It wasn't like the anger faded in any way, and the moment they were over the threshhold, he dropped the sword and snarled. "You cut me out!"

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, looking at his shoes.

He took a deep breath. "That's - "

" - what I had to do," Rusty cut in, still not looking at him.

"What you had to do?" he demanded, enunciating each word clearly. "You had to change the plan? You had to - "

" - stop you from doing something stupid?" Rusty looked up at him, a hint of anger on his face. "Yeah. I did."

"I wasn't - " he began to protest.

" - you weren't going to take Norris for everything he doesn't have? You weren't going to try and take everything he has, you weren't going to try and hurt him, humiliate him?" Rusty's voice had an edge of fury that he rarely heard.

He paused. He had been. Of course he had been. He sighed; anger suddenly gone. "He - "

" - I know." And Rusty's voice was gentle now.

"I can't . . . " He couldn't stand it. Couldn't bear to hear Norris, insulting, taunting, trying to hurt.

"I know," Rusty said again. "Think I don't?"

He sighed heavily. "There would have been consequences," he admitted.

"He would have come after us," Rusty agreed. He paused. "But I'm - "

" - don't be sorry," Danny interrupted. "It's all right. It is." It was.

Rusty grinned happily and turned his attention to the sword, holding it aloft. "Behold!" he proclaimed. "I have returned. I am the once and future king, rightful ruler of the Britons."

Danny couldn't help but laugh. "Think the fact that you're American is going to count against you, Rus'."

With a glare at him, Rusty tried again. "I am the once and future king," he started, in the worst Cary Grant impression Danny had ever heard.

He dissolved into helpless laughter, and immediately found a sword pointing at him.

"On guard, scurrilous knave," Rusty said sternly.

Leaping backwards, he grabbed a pole from the ground behind him. "I shall defend myself in the name of my lord."

Rusty paused. "What's your lord's name?"

"Bob," Danny answered immediately.

They glanced at each other for a moment, smiling, then set to enthusiastically, clashing sword against pole, making as much noise as possible.

"Do you know any prayers, my friend?" Rusty snarled.

Danny grinned, recognising the movie. "I'll say one for you!" he answered immediately.

They skipped merrily around the ground floor of the house, leaping over rubble and broken furniture, striving to look as dramatic as possible.

"I see you're dressed for a funeral," Danny declared, carefully trapping Rusty against the wall.

"On the contrary . . . " Rusty countered, as he dodged happily out from under the pole with an overacted flourish. "The funeral will be yours!"

"Don't try to carve 'Z's on anything," Danny counselled quickly. "We need to give Norris the sword back, remember?"

"You'd rather give him something sharp than something blunted?" Rusty blinked.

"Good point," Danny nodded. "Incidentally, do we really need to give him it back?"

"Yeah, Danny," Rusty sighed.

"Damn," he said with a slight smile. Would serve Norris right if they'd just kept it.

Rusty grinned and pirouetted away. "And that, my friend, ends a partnership that should never have begun!" Rusty declared.

"Hey!" Danny protested. "We can't both be Errol Flynn!"

"Different movies," Rusty argued. "I wasn't being Errol Flynn, I was being Captain Blood."

Danny sighed and then grinned. "You want to - "

" - always," Rusty agreed, and he leapt back a step and put on a deeper voice. "We have a duty to suppress disorder and arrest brawlers. Put up your swords and come along with us."

"Impossible," Danny smiled.

Rusty moved to stand beside him, confronting the imaginary enemy. "Unthinkable," he added.

"Unlikely," they said in unison, and charged.

It was always better to be on the same side. Always better to be together.

* * *

_The Drama Society presents "The Lizard Rises" A Play in Two Acts_

_Directed by Mike Katsen_

_Produced by Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan_

"How come you get top billing?" Rusty complained, peering over his shoulder at the program.

"Alphabetical," Danny explained, surreptitiously staring over Rusty's shoulder, into the audience.

"Oh," Rusty said, apparently mollified.

"Also it sounds better," Danny added, and he grinned at the look he got.

"You think it's going to be good?" Rusty asked presently.

Danny shrugged. "No idea. At any rate, Mike seemed happy - "

" - with everything," Rusty agreed. He smiled in a way that Danny just hated. "You realise that tomorrow we're going to need to figure out how to put it all back without anyone realising?"

He groaned. "That's tomorrow's problem," he said insistently. He pretended to stretch and looked to his other side.

"Should I be pretending not to notice that you're looking for something?" Rusty asked. "Or just not asking what?"

He looked down at the program and flushed. "I mentioned to Dad and Mom that we were involved in this. They said they might show up." He didn't bother saying that they'd said that they would show up. That they'd promised. And he certainly didn't bother saying that they'd lied.

"Danny." And Rusty knew it anyway.

"Doesn't matter," he pointed out. "It's not like the play means anything to us anyway, right?"

"Right," Rusty agreed, and Danny took comfort in the understanding, in the unconditional, in the fact that Rusty was _here _and always would be.

"One of these days I'm going to . . . " He trailed off. One of these days he was going to stop hoping. One of these days he was going to stop expecting too much. One of these days he was going to stop dreaming the impossible.

The lights went down. Briefly Rusty's hand was in his. "Not as long as I can help it," Rusty promised him in a whisper.

* * *

**Oh, and if anyone is planning on joining in the challenge on the forum, the deadline is Monday. Well. Mondayish. **


	25. When we were young Part 1

**InSilva says I need more imagination. Just by the way. Am sulking.**

**Not what I was originally planning on writing next, but I realised that needed to have something written in this before I could write something in 'Adjusting'. Of course, when I had _that _thought I thought this was going to be a relatively short chapter of 'More Things Change'. Realised _that_ probably wasn't the case when I was a sixth of the way in and twelve pages. So there we go. First part of a three part chapter.**

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Part 1 (Chapter 25) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**13. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**16. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**17. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**18. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**19. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**21. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**22. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

* * *

It should have been simple. It _was _simple; at this stage they'd broken into the school at least half a dozen times in search of test papers, class lists, report cards, letters to parents or, as in this case, altering detention schedules. Gina didn't particularly want to have detention on her birthday and was willing to pay five dollars to get out of it and to make sure that her parents never got to hear about it in the first places. Simple enough. Or at least it should have been.

Unfortunately they'd maybe been a little complacent. Assumed that this time would be _exactly _the same as every other time. And then they discovered pretty rapidly that the school was full of people. Adults. Some parent teacher association fundraiser or something. The hall was full of music and people and food and for a second, seeing Rusty's eyes lingering on a plate of little chocolate brownies, Danny had been worried that they might yet end up abandoning Gina's detention in favour of passing themselves off as unlikely donors in search of food.

Rusty grinned at him. "Nah. But I think I'll pick up some chocolate on the way home."

Danny smiled slightly and vaguely wished, not for the first time that evening, that Rusty was coming home with him. But Mom had been insistent lately and Rusty's dad had been ignoring him, so they were lying low and saving their battles for later. "You think we should leave it?" he asked. "Come back another time?"

He watched the consideration. "They all seem to be in the hall," Rusty said at last. "Or the ground floor at least. Well away from the office. And if it's not tonight, they'll send the letter out."

Nodding slowly, Danny agreed. That was pretty much what he'd figured. "So we go?"

"We go," Rusty said seriously.

* * *

He'd found and removed the letter from a pile waiting to be signed, and Rusty had just finished carefully replacing a detention list minus Gina's name, when they heard someone coming down the corridor.

They didn't even need to look at each other; they snapped their flashlights off instantly and Danny slid the filing cabinet drawer shut before quickly joining Rusty, crouched under the desk furthest from the door. Sitting absolutely still, they listened to footsteps and voices coming nearer. Danny gripped Rusty's hand tightly and hoped that whoever it was wasn't coming in here.

Hope didn't work. The sound of the door handle turning, the light flickering on, voices laughing.

"I left my purse at my desk. Hang on a moment, would you Elaine?" Mrs Boyd. One of the secretaries. Danny couldn't remember which was her desk and, as the footsteps came closer, he desperately hoped it wasn't the one they were hiding under. Rusty have his hand a reassuring squeeze and Danny relaxed a little at the confidence. Not Mrs Boyd's desk, then, and she stopped at the other side of the room and reached down for her purse.

They weren't even breathing.

"Got it!" Mrs Boyd called out cheerfully.

"Great! Let's go before all the food's gone," Elaine replied.

Danny bit back the sigh of relief as she turned off the light and closed the door. He grinned quickly at Rusty, but Rusty was frowning. And after a fraction of a second's thought, Danny knew why. There was no sound of footsteps. The two women were still stood right outside the door.

"Don't you think you should lock it?" Elaine asked loudly.

Danny froze and listened for the answer. "We don't normally," Mrs Boyd said slowly. They didn't normally. In fact they _never _did, not for as long as he and Rusty had been breaking in. He hadn't even known there was a key. "But I suppose it might be an idea," Mrs Boyd went on. "Since there's so many people in the building, I guess I really should."

Transfixed, he listened to the sound of jangling keys. The sound of the lock clicking. The sound of unconcerned footsteps walking away.

They were locked in.

As soon as there was silence, Danny sprang to his feet and ran to the door. It was pointless, of course. He'd already known that. The lock on the inside of the door had a metal panel welded over it. Some security measure. Unlockable from this side. _Unopenable _from this side. They were locked in and they couldn't get out and still he swore and tried to prise the panel off.

"You shouldn't do that," Rusty said quietly.

Danny turned round, exasperated and fully prepared to tell Rusty that he _knew _it wasn't going to be possible but he had to try _something._

The words died as soon as he saw Rusty. Standing against the desk, shoulders hunched, eyes blank in a way that frightened Danny more than he could ever say.

"You shouldn't do that," Rusty said again. "They'll get mad if we try to get out." He sounded so much younger than Danny had ever known him. Voice vacant and trembling.

With two steps he'd crossed the floor and he grasped Rusty's hands and spoke calmly. "They didn't lock us in on purpose, Rus'. It's all right. We're going to get out of here, okay? We're going to be fine."

He waited, a long moment, ignoring the way his heart was pounding, ignoring everything except Rusty. "I'm here," he promised. "I'm here and we're going to be fine." Gradually he saw the light, life, return to Rusty's eyes and there was a second of confusion, a second when Rusty looked around the room, looked at _him _like this wasn't what he'd been expecting.

Realisation dawned on Rusty's face, followed rapidly by a haze of embarrassment and apology. "Danny, I - " he began awkwardly, and some things Danny never wanted to listen to. Before Rusty could get any further, he leaned forwards and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. Not something that they often did. But sometimes there were things that Danny didn't know how to say with words. Things that he knew Rusty wouldn't understand even if he tried. A kiss, and Rusty smiled at him, innocence and wonder and _his. _

"Okay then," Danny said, clearing his throat. "How are we - "

" - window?" Rusty suggested quickly, and there was still a pressing need to escape.

Window. Seemed like a good idea. The climb would be difficult but not impossible, he thought. Until he tried to open the first window and realised it had been nailed shut. Wide-eyed, he watched Rusty try the second. Equally unopenable. They looked at the third for a long moment and, with trembling hands, he tried to pull it open. Nothing.

"We can't get out," Rusty stated and the fear was running under his voice.

"Not at the moment," Danny agreed, staying calm and ignoring the little part of his brain that was always going to be entirely convinced that if Rusty was afraid then fear was the rational response. "We'll need to wait till someone opens the door, that's all. Chances are Mrs Boyd will come back, okay? Odds are we'll just need to wait a few hours till the party's done, and then she'll open the door and we can sneak out once everyone's gone. Right?"

Rusty nodded slowly. "Right," he said, emotion locked up tight. Neither of them sounded convinced. Danny tried not to think about what would happen if they were caught here. Tried not to imagine how desperately bad things could get. How desperately bad things _were. _

He sat down beneath the window, his back resting on the wall and waited in an air of expectation. After a second Rusty joined him, and Danny moved closer as subtly as he could. Rusty noticed, of course, and smiled slightly and said nothing.

"Tomorrow," Danny began after a moment, talking for the sake of talking. "You want to head round to the pictures after school? See Jaws II again? Throw popcorn at Roy Scheider? I'll even let you tell people the shark drowns at the end if you - "

" - What happens if no one ever comes?" Rusty asked suddenly. "What happens if no one ever lets us out?"

Danny paused and looked round slowly. "That's never going to happen," he said gently. "It might take a while but one way or another, we're getting out of here." He reached out and placed his hand on Rusty's, but in a second Rusty had scrambled to his feet and was pacing edgily across the room, closer and closer to the door.

"I don't like being locked in, Danny!" Rusty said, agitation raging through him, frightened and miserable and not in control and he hated it. _They _hated it.

"I know," he said soothingly. He did. He knew what Rusty was afraid of, and it wasn't small spaces, exactly, not claustrophobia or whatever. He'd sat next to Rusty in the smallest of places, hidden in cupboards, under beds, and there had never been anything other than amusement and coolness and, more often than not, restless boredom. As long as they could get out whenever they wanted. The moment they were trapped; that was when things got bad.

Rusty was still pacing and Danny couldn't stand it anymore. He stood up and laid a hand flat against Rusty's chest. "You need to calm down, Rus'," he said firmly.

Rusty stared at him unseeingly. "My parents used to lock me in," he said abruptly. "When I was a kid. They'd lock me in and they'd go out and leave me. Not just for a few hours, you know? Overnight, or for a few days."

He fought down the immediate outrage and anger. Nothing he hadn't already suspected – _known_, if he was being honest. But to hear Rusty actually _say _it...

"One time it was almost two weeks," Rusty went on, his voice cracking. "I tried to make the food last, but...I got so hungry. So scared. So...I used to wonder, you know, Danny? What would happen if they just didn't come back? If I died? How long would I have to stay there before someone found me? No one would look for me. No one would come for me."

"I will," Danny whispered. "Rusty, I always will. I'll always look for you and I'll always find you. I - "

" - don't make promises you can't keep," Rusty interrupted with a bittersweet smile, but at least he was hearing what Danny was saying. Trouble was, he should be _believing._

Danny looked Rusty straight in the eyes. "I will never leave you alone, Rusty. I can promise you that."

Rusty smiled at him again. "You _can't,"_ he said, but he let Danny take him by the hand and lead him back to the window and they sat down again, even closer than before. "I don't like being locked up," he said again and below them the music from the party blared, uncaring.

A distraction. That's what they needed right now. Something that would take them far away. Something that would mean that the very last thing Rusty was thinking about was being locked up. He sighed and drew his legs up close to his chest. "Did I ever tell you," he began, as casually as he could, and Rusty looked at him sharply. "About the time I ran away from home?"

* * *

Danny was eight years old and he was pretty sure his parents hated him.

It was the third day of the summer holidays and neither of them had said more than two words to him for days now. It had been a week since Mom had caught Daddy playing with his secretary and since then she'd spent all her time either shouting or crying and Daddy was hardly ever here, and when he was he was either fighting with Mom or he was working and being silent and Danny didn't know what to do, and sometimes, the way they looked at him, when they looked at him, he thought that maybe, somehow, it was his fault and he spent a lot of time hiding up in his room.

For the first couple of days he'd tried to spend as much time out of the house as possible. He'd gone over to Mike's house to play, and they'd spent hours playing space explorers in Mike's back yard, which had been fun even if Mike never did seem to see the same aliens he did, and then Mike's mom had called them in for dinner and there'd been ratatouille and he'd eaten it eagerly - delighted at anything that wasn't a sandwich – and later Mike's parents had given him pitying looks, and Mike's mom had taken him aside and explained that she _knew_ he was going through a tough time at the moment, and he was always welcome to come over any time he wanted, and she'd always be ready to listen, anytime he cared to talk about it. He'd thanked her politely and he'd decided not to go back anytime soon. Mom hated people gossiping about them.

But the third day, and he'd got up bright and early and drawn them each a picture. He wasn't that great at art, and the whole idea was a little babyish, but Mrs Bryant said that the one thing that would always cheer parents up was a picture their children had drawn, and he knew that teachers lied about a lot of things, but he was kind of hoping this wasn't one of them. He was running out of other ideas.

He traipsed downstairs a little after nine. There was no sign of Daddy, but Mom was sitting in the study, working. He bit his lip; she really didn't like to be disturbed. But the door was open and it wasn't usually, so maybe it was okay. Compromising, he hovered in the doorway and spoke softly. "Mom? I drew you a picture."

She turned round sharply. "Daniel? Did you miss the school bus again?"

He blinked. "No, it's the summer holidays," he explained quietly. He didn't mention the open afternoon they'd had on Friday to celebrate. All the parents – _almost _all the parents – had come in, eager to see what their kids had been doing all year. There'd been cake and juice and much exclaiming over stupid papier mache models of shoes and giant paintings of trees, and when Mrs Bryant had asked where his parents were, he'd laughed scornfully and uncaringly and said that open days were for babies and he hadn't given them the stupid letter. He'd got in trouble for being rude, but not for lying. She'd never known he was lying. Of course he'd given them the letter, and he'd been excited and put lots of effort into everything, imagining Mom's proud smile, imagining Daddy tousling his hair, imagining all of them being happy. He should have known it would never happen.

* * *

"Bastards," Rusty said, quiet anger in his voice.

Danny shrugged and knew, maybe, he'd said or shown just a little bit more than he'd meant to. "They had a lot going on at the time. Just because they have more important things to think about than - "

" - you - " Rusty interjected.

" - open days," Danny corrected without missing a beat, "doesn't make them bad people."

Rusty sighed and dropped his head onto Danny's shoulder, and at least the very last thing he was thinking about right now was being trapped. "It makes them _stupid," _he said and Danny put an arm round his shoulders and drew him in close.

* * *

Mom looked decidedly put out. "The summer holidays?" she echoed, like he'd invented the idea just to inconvenience her. "I need to go in to work this morning. And your father is nowhere to be seen, of course." She sighed. "I don't have time to arrange a babysitter. You'll be all right by yourself for a couple of hours."

"Of course," he agreed, even though she hadn't asked the question, even though she'd turned away from him as soon as she'd finished speaking. "Mom?" he said again. "I drew you a picture." He held it out hopefully, but she didn't look round.

"Daniel, I don't have _time," _she said exasperatedly. "Go and find something to do, can't you?"

He nodded and went through to the kitchen, put the picture in the trash and poured himself a bowl of cereal, only spilling a little milk on the counter. Maybe Daddy would like _his_ picture. Nothing wrong with hoping.

Breakfast finished, he wandered round in search of something to do. There didn't seem to be anything on TV except grown ups talking, and none of them seemed to be saying anything interesting. He turned the TV off and headed upstairs instead, deciding to play with Billy for a while.

Billy wasn't exactly real, but that didn't stop him from being fun. It was nice to have a friend who could be there all the time, who could know what he was thinking, who didn't need to run home when Mom and Daddy started arguing, and who would stay with him, listening to the shouting and would tell him it didn't matter and almost _make it _not matter. But Billy wasn't real, and sometimes that made everything hurt more, and besides, mostly, Danny thought he was far too old to play with Billy anyway.

* * *

Rusty was grinning at him. "_You_ had an imaginary friend?"

"It's a perfectly normal phase," Danny told him, with dignity. "Lots of kids have them. Surprised you never did."

"The real world's enough for me," Rusty said dryly.

Danny smiled. "No it's not," he said quietly.

* * *

Billy and he played in his room for a while; imaginary swordfights, magic kingdoms, and fierce monsters. They fought side by side and sometimes Billy saved him and sometimes he saved Billy, and they never got hurt enough to die, and they shrugged off the pain, because they were the good guys and the good guys could do that.

It was when he was trying to rescue Billy from the tower on top of his wardrobe that it happened. His foot slipped off the top of the door, and he felt himself falling backwards, and with a startled yell – _not _a scream, he didn't scream – he landed painfully on the floor, somehow sweeping his lamp off his nightstand in the process. The crash seemed to echo around the room for sometime afterwards.

Silence for a few seconds and then he could hear the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.

Frantically, he tried to grab the pieces of broken glass from the floor, trying to make it at least look like he was tidying up his mess.

"_Daniel Ocean, what have you done now?_"

He cringed at the sound of Mom's voice, angry, exasperated and absolutely fed up.

Turning, he saw her standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her expression resigned and contemptuous.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I broke the lamp. It was an accident. I'll clean it up."

She glanced at the broken glass and sighed loudly. "_Not _with your hands, you stupid boy. I'll get a dustpan and brush. You stand absolutely still until I get back, you understand me?"

He nodded mutely and stood, statue-still, in the middle of the floor. Billy was standing in the bathroom doorway, looking like he couldn't care less what Mom thought. Danny wished he could think like that.

Mom was back after only a couple of minutes and she knelt down and started clearing up the mess. "Don't you have anything better to do than create more work for me?" she demanded. "What did you think you were doing, anyway? You can't have made that much noise just breaking the lamp."

"I was climbing on the wardrobe and I fell off," he explained meekly. Billy smiled encouragingly at him.

She looked up at him. "Why do you do these things?" she asked, anger and disappointment warring in her voice. "Why can't you just be normal? God, it's no wonder your father would rather spend time with his _floozies._" Danny didn't know what the word meant, but she spat it like it was the worst thing she could think of. "_I _wouldn't want to come home to deal with you either. I swear, if I didn't have _you..."_ She shook her head bitterly and continued clearing up the broken lamp.

Danny stood in the middle of his room, his head bowed, heat rising in his cheeks. Billy had vanished. Mom never let him keep his dreams.

Eventually she stood up and walked out of the room. She paused in the doorway but didn't look back. "Not another sound out of you for the rest of the day, do you understand me, Daniel? I think you've disappointed me quite enough for one day. If you care at all about that."

The door closed behind her and he screwed his eyes shut tightly and reminded himself that he wasn't a baby and crying didn't help anything. After a moment, after he'd got himself under control he took a long look at his stinging hands. They were only bleeding a little. He hadn't cut himself really badly. And, when he rolled up his pants leg, the graze on his knee really wasn't that bad at all. There would have been no need for Mom to be worried, even if she had noticed. Or asked. Or cared.

He went through to his bathroom and carefully got himself cleaned up.

* * *

Rusty was staring at him. He shrugged defensively. "Not like it matters," he pointed out. It had all been a long time ago. And besides, in _comparison -_

" - That's not the point," Rusty said, his lips tight, his eyes bright with anger. "She shouldn't say those things to you. She should have noticed you were hurt. She should have _asked."_

"Not like I said anything," he pointed out. Because he'd been afraid of what she'd say. Or what she wouldn't say.

Rusty sighed and dropped his head back down on Danny's shoulder, and Danny felt the barest ghost of a kiss and there was freedom in that.

* * *

Even after he heard Mom leaving he stayed up in his room, stared at a comic book, and did his best to even turn the pages as quietly as he could. He didn't _want _them to hate him. He didn't want it to be all his fault.

Mom and Daddy came home hours later and seemingly within seconds of each other. The yelling started almost immediately and Danny hung back on the staircase, not so sure what the right thing to do was, not so sure if he wanted to go down.

"_You don't seriously think I don't know what's going on? Everyone knows what's going on. You humiliate me every chance you get. Can you even imagine what the neighbours are saying right now?"_

"_Well, maybe if you thought a little less about what the neighbours thought and spent more time - "_

" _- Time? You think I have time? I have a career too, you know. And I keep this house nice for you. And there's Daniel. You remember him?"_

"_Oh, that's right. Bring him into it."_

"_Do you honestly think we'd **be **here if it wasn't for Daniel? He's the only reason..."_

The argument moved into the living room. Danny fled upstairs and didn't hear anymore.

It was all his fault. It really was. All the arguing. The fact that his parents hated each other. The fact that they hated him. It was his fault.

* * *

"It wasn't," Rusty said, and Danny shrugged. "It _isn't," _Rusty said, and Danny said nothing.

* * *

He sat on his bed and blinked back tears resolutely.

Twenty minutes or so later and there was no more yelling, just the sound of someone moving in the hall. Carefully, quietly, he crept downstairs and looked. It was Daddy, and he was getting ready to go out again.

"Daddy?" he said quietly, and Daddy turned round, his jacket in his hands.

"Oh, Danny." He sounded surprised. As if he'd forgotten all about Danny. And Danny did his best to believe that wasn't possible. "What do you want? This isn't really the time."

"I drew you a picture," Danny offered, holding the piece of paper out. He hoped that maybe if he started with the picture, Daddy might let him talk about important things.

Daddy didn't even glance at it. "This isn't really a good time, Danny. Daddy needs to go out now. Later, okay?"

Danny nodded and watched Daddy leave. He might be only eight, but he knew that 'later' was the same thing as 'never'. Daddy said _lots _of things would happen later. None of them ever did.

Mom was in the study again so he wandered through to the living room and watched TV for a while. Some old movie, and he considered that there must be some grey area between kissing an annoying girl and kissing a tarantula. After all, kissing a tarantula probably wasn't even _possible_. There must be some other options. Frogs, maybe. Though kissing frogs had the potential of turning them into princes. Which would probably surprise Gene Kelly a little. He bit his lip and reminded himself that there were thoughts that he shouldn't share. Shouldn't have. Mom was always saying that he was far too old for nonsense and imagination.

Another way he disappointed her. Them. He thought of all the times they'd given him that look and wished he wasn't, well, _Danny. _And they were arguing more, and it seemed like it was his fault and maybe if they had a break from him – just for a little while – things would be better.

Feeling kind of hungry once the movie was done, he headed into the kitchen and inspected the contents of the fridge solemnly. Nothing to put on sandwiches. No milk for cereal. And he wasn't allowed to touch the stove.

With a feeling of trepidation, he knocked on the door to the study and went inside. Mom glared up at him. "What?" she snarled, and he was pretty sure she'd been crying.

"Nothing," he whispered, and made to leave.

"What?" she asked again, in a gentler tone.

"I was just wondering if there'd be any dinner?" he asked hopefully.

She closed her eyes for a long moment and sighed. "Yes," she said bitterly. "I'll make something in a minute."

Immediately he felt guilty. "You don't need to," he said quickly. "I can get some corn chips or something. I'm fine. I'm not even hungry."

"I said I'd make you something, Daniel!" she snapped and he shut up quickly and followed her through to the kitchen. "Must you _always_ be between my feet?" she demanded and he bit his lip and went through to the living room and sat in silence on the sofa until she called him through.

He sat at the table and she slammed a bowl of risotto down in front of him. "There," she said fiercely. "Happy?"

"Yes, Mom," he said in a low voice. "Thank you." He stared down at the bowl and the mushrooms that were peppered through it. Carefully, he ate around them.

"Don't play with your food, Daniel," Mom snapped and he nodded tightly and did his best to swallow the mushrooms without tasting them.

As soon as he was finished, she snatched the bowl away and turned to wash it up, and this time he could see her crying, could see her shoulders shaking.

"Mom?" he said tentatively, placing a hand on her arm gingerly. "Mom, I'm sorry. It'll be okay."

She turned round as if surprised to see him there and the tears were streaming down his face, and she pushed him away lightly. "Go _away, _Daniel," she said.

He would.

* * *

Rusty's arms were tight around him and Danny took a moment, his face pressed into Rusty's hair. This hadn't been what he was intending. But talking got to be inevitable when they were scared and there was nothing else.

* * *

He set his alarm and got up early the next morning. Five o'clock in the morning kind of early. He was never awake at this time. It was kind of exciting. The sky was a strange colour.

The plan was simple enough. His parents were fighting because of him. If they had a break from him, maybe things would get better. So all he had to do was go away for a few days. He'd go stay with Uncle Ed. He stayed in Miami which was far away and always sunny and full of palm trees, and Uncle Ed always seemed almost pleased to see him. Certainly he always brought presents and candy and insisted on hugs. He even seemed to like Danny being Danny. Which made no sense but did make a nice change.

Carefully he packed his school bag with a change of clothes, a couple of Batman action figures, Sammo, his teddy bear that he absolutely did _not _need to sleep with, a pile of comic books, five dollars he had saved up and a bag of toffees. That should do nicely.

Mom didn't seem to be awake yet, and he didn't think Daddy was home, so sneaking out of the house was easy. With any luck it would be late tonight before they even realised he was gone. Maybe even tomorrow!

He didn't know what bus he was looking for, so he just walked into town. It took a long time, and he got a few curious looks, mostly from early risers out walking their dogs, or getting their newspapers, but no one went as far as to actually speak to him, or try and stop him. And he didn't see anyone he recognised, which hopefully meant that no one would tell Mom they'd seen him.

The station was getting busy when he arrived there, which was good. Easier to slip between different groups of people, pretend he was with someone else, smile and escape notice. He felt like a spy, or a fugitive or something. This was an _adventure._

The only trouble was, reading the information boards, he couldn't see any trains that went to Miami. That made it difficult. If he wasn't going to Miami and Uncle Ed, where was he going? Considering thoughtfully, he glanced at the boards again. There was a train in ten minutes to Washington DC. That had to be a big place. The capital city. He'd be willing to bet he could get a train to _anywhere _from there, even Miami.

He found the train without that much trouble and quickly got on a deserted carriage. The train seemed nearly empty. Suited him fine and he found a seat with a table that seemed out of the way and inconspicuous. He'd barely sat down before the train started moving and – gripping the edge of the table tightly, staring out the window wide-eyed – he wondered if this was _really _the best thing to do? It had seemed like such a good plan. But now it was actually happening, he wasn't quite so sure of himself. He felt a little frightened. A lot frightened. Frightened and lonely. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and imagined Billy sitting in the seat opposite, grinning conspiratorially at him. "No turning back now," Billy said, and Danny nodded tightly.

* * *

Rusty was frowning at him. "You went all the way to Washington by yourself?" he asked disapprovingly. "When you were _eight?" _

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"_Anything _could have happened." Rusty stressed, looking angry and frustrated. "Danny, anything."

"Yeah," he said again, more than a little uncomfortable. "Nothing did."

"You were eight, though. You should have been safe at home. You should never have been wandering around without your parents like that."

Oh, that was just... "When _you _were eight - "

" - when I was eight I was older than you were," Rusty cut in. And that was difficult to argue with. Certainly Rusty at eleven was a lot older than Danny remembered being at the same age.

He shrugged and conceded. "It happened, though. And until you invent a time machine there's no way to change that."

* * *

The train journey to Washington took a very long time. Hours and hours and hours, and Danny spent most of it staring excitedly out the window at the unfamiliar scenery rushing past – towns and hills and people and cows. It was all new and it was all interesting. He'd only ever been on a train a couple of times before. Mostly Mom and Daddy drove everywhere. Or, if they were going on holiday, they flew in an aeroplane. And that was fun too. Except for the metal stairs to get on the plane. That was high up and frightening and last time he'd been too scared to get on the top step, and Mom had sighed wearily and even Daddy had looked annoyed and disappointed and he'd picked Danny up and bodily dragged him on board, and Danny had sat hunched on his seat and drove his fists into his eyes, determined that they wouldn't see him crying.

Trains were better, he thought. Less high up. Less frightening.

The times when he wasn't staring out the window he was curled under the table, holding his breath, Billy crouched beside him, watching the conductor's legs going past, expecting every moment to hear an angry voice demanding to know exactly what he thought he was doing. But each time there was nothing. He wasn't found. And eventually the train drew into Union Station and he found the biggest crowd and lost himself in the press of people disembarking, and even if he drew a couple of concerned glances, no one wanted to take responsibility.

* * *

He exchanged a quick look with Rusty, dark amusement reflected and echoing. No one ever did.

* * *

Almost immediately he was overwhelmed. He hadn't been expecting so many people, and they were all in a hurry, pushing past him. Twice he was knocked into and almost fell. He clung to his backpack like grim death and wandered, looking for something that would tell him how to get to Miami.

Eventually he found a departures board and stared up at it for a long time, puzzling out the information. In the end he figured out that there was a train to Miami in less than an hour. Well, that was good. Now all he had to do was be on board it.

That proved to be a little more difficult than he would have imagined. Twenty minutes searching and not only had he not found the right platform, he seemed to have wandered into an almost-empty area of the station. Tired and hungry and nervous, he tried to retrace his steps. And failed. He was lost.

"You okay there, boy?" The man's quiet voice was sudden and it sounded friendly enough, but Danny wasn't exactly anxious to talk to anyone right now. He didn't want to risk being sent home. He started to run. "Hey!" the voice exclaimed. "Hey, it's okay. Wait up!"

Danny ran quickly down a corridor, and he could hear the man immediately behind him and his heart was pounding in his chest.

"Slow down, boy," the man called. "I just want to talk to you. You on your own?"

The corridor ended in a door marked 'Private'. Danny tried the door handle anyway. Locked. A hand fell on his shoulder and he felt the panic rising in him. Dropping his backpack he spun round quickly.

The man in front of him was tall and skinny, with greasy hair and a dirty trenchcoat, and he was smiling at Danny, nervous and ingratiating. "Easy there, boy," he said and his hand was still on Danny's shoulder, squeezing tightly. "My name's Stu. What's yours?"

Danny shook his head. He wasn't going to say.

Stu smiled a little more. "Not a big talker, huh? That's okay. You lost? What are you looking for? You parents? A train?"

He still seemed friendly enough. "A train," Danny admitted, slightly unwillingly.

"Well, that's easy enough," Stu nodded encouragingly. "Why don't we go and find it together?"

"No, thank you," Danny said politely. "I'm fine by myself."

The grip on his shoulder got a little more insistent and he shuddered deep inside. Oh, I'm sure you are," Stu murmured. "But you're such a little boy. And little boys shouldn't be running around on their own. Anything could happen. You're lucky you ran into me." Stu reached up with his other hand and gently caressed Danny's cheek.

Danny bit back his scream and struggled desperately to get free.

Stu laughed slightly. "Don't worry," he said. "You remind me of my son. He's waiting for me in the food court. Would you like to come meet him? I'm sure you'll be good friends. I'll buy you some ice cream and you can play together. Do you like playing, little boy?"

Danny stared past Stu, down the corridor. "Mom!" he exclaimed, forcing surprise and relief and delight into his voice.

Stu didn't let go of him. But he did turn reflexively and his grip loosened ever so slightly, and Danny shrugged out of his jacket, snatched up his backpack, charged past Stu and ran like hell.

Behind him he heard Stu say a couple of bad words and then he could hear Stu running after him, and more terrified than he could ever remember being, tears streaming down his face, he ran faster than he'd known he could and then there were people all around him and suddenly there was no sign of Stu and he was _safe._

He didn't feel it.

By some miracle he stumbled upon the Miami train and he scrambled on board, found the nearest restroom, ran inside and locked the door tight shut and sobbed himself hoarse, clinging tightly to Sammo.

* * *

"_Danny,"_ Rusty was holding him tighter than Danny would have believed possible, his body pressed so close to Danny, as if he never wanted to let go, as if he was trying to erase horror and terror and memory with his sheer presence. And if anyone could... Gradually the trembling eased and he pulled back and looked Rusty in the face.

"Nothing happened," he said quietly and there was a catch in his voice.

Rusty leaned forwards quickly and pressed his lips to Danny's; the kiss, unexpected and wonderful and comforting and firsttime, and Danny relaxed in understanding and empathy. He'd never told anyone about Stu before. Certainly not Mom and Dad. But he'd told Rusty, and Rusty didn't think he was ridiculous and he didn't think that Danny was stupid and Danny closed his eyes and let unbounded love and understanding wash through him.

"You know," he said presently, opening his eyes. "I could be overreacting. Remembering it as worse than it was. There's a good chance he was just a guy trying to help a lost child."

"Am I gonna have to kiss you again?" Rusty demanded, vaguely threatening, and Danny smiled and dropped his head forwards onto Rusty's shoulder and tried not to listen to Rusty's unvoiced thoughts on what he'd do to Stu if he could.

* * *

He stayed in the restroom for a long time, long after the train started moving. Now and then, someone would try the door, even hammer on it, and each time he'd curl up a little bit tighter, afraid of who it could be, afraid of what they might want from him.

Eventually he calmed down enough to scrub his face clean and venture outside. The train was crowded, but he managed to find himself a corner seat and leaned against the window. At some point it had got dark, and staring out the window wasn't nearly as fun anymore. Nothing was as fun anymore. This wasn't so much of an adventure as he'd hoped. He quietly ate his toffees and, when the conductor came close, he slipped out of his seat and hid on the floor.

The toffees made him thirsty, and didn't even come close to stopping the hunger. He looked round cautiously; the woman in the seat across from him was asleep. And she had a bottle of Coke and a packet of cookies in the chair beside her. He bit his lip and told himself that she wouldn't miss them. Crawling across the floor, he grabbed the bottle and the cookies, ran to the next carriage and gulped them down as fast as possible. There. No one would ever know that he'd stolen.

This carriage was busier. There were a whole lot of families, with children running up and down the aisle. Feeling a little happier, he wandered up and introduced himself, and soon he was playing cowboys with Nicky and Buddy, and Al and his sister Carla.

The conductor came by again, and this time his eye passed right over Danny. One child among many. Easy enough to deal with.

Time passed pleasantly, and gradually fear faded. Better to be among people. Made him feel safe.

One by one, the other children were called away by their parents, told to go and sleep, and Danny found himself a seat near enough that everyone would assume he was with someone else, and curled up by himself. He tried not to stare at the other kids, being cuddled by their parents, tucked up in blankets.

The seat was uncomfortable and there was a draught coming in from somewhere. There was part of him that wished that he was at home, safe and warm in his own bed, knowing that Mom and Daddy were somewhere near by. He wondered if they knew he was gone yet. Wondered if things were better yet, now he was out of the way. Wondered if they were pleased that he'd taken the initiative. Done the right thing. Which he _had _and there was no point in regretting it now. Still. He wished he still had his jacket. Or he'd thought to bring a blanket. Or he wasn't alone.

* * *

Rusty looked at him, fierce determination in his eyes.

Danny grinned. "Now who's making promises he can't keep?" he demanded lightly, but he didn't really mean it. And he knew that in Rusty's head it was _'For as long as you want me around.' _And he knew that Rusty didn't understand that _that _was forever and always.

* * *

He was woken by the sun shining directly into his eyes and the feeling of someone watching him. Nervous in a way he'd _never _have been before, he turned his head and looked round slowly. Al and Carla's parents were looking at him and whispering to each other, concern written all over their faces. He relaxed; that was a comforting sort of danger. Still, clearly time to move.

Grabbing his backpack, he stood up, stretched casually, and headed on to the next carriage, doing his best to project the image of a boy returning to his worried parents. No one made a move to stop him or follow him, thankfully.

There were no seats in the next carriage, but there was a little nook next to the luggage rack, and he hid himself down there comfortably and spent the next several hours – the rest of the journey – playing with his Batman toys.

Once again, when the train came to a stop, he found the largest crowd and followed it. Once again, no one noticed him, and this time he followed the mass of people all the way outside the station.

He stopped suddenly. Looked round slowly. He didn't recognise any of the buildings. He couldn't see Uncle Ed's house _anywhere._ Getting to Miami was supposed to be the difficult part; from now on it was supposed to be easy, but there were so many buildings, and nothing looked familiar, and how he was supposed to find Uncle Ed?

Troubled, he wandered back insides the station and walked around aimlessly for a while. Eventually he found himself watching a little booth opposite the ticket office. 'Information' he read slowly, off the sign, and shrugged. That was pretty much what he needed here. And there was a long queue and the woman behind the counter looked harassed and busy. There was a good chance she'd tell him what he needed to know just to get rid of him.

He joined the queue and waited for a long time until it was his turn. The woman frowned down at him. "Yes?" she asked cautiously.

"Hi there," Danny smiled. "I'm trying to find my Uncle Ed's house. It's a big white house with a blue roof and a pool and lots of palm trees. Do you know where it is?"

She blinked. "Where are your parents?"

He shrugged. "Around," he lied vaguely and he eyed the Twinkie lying on the counter. It had been a long time since those cookies.

She caught him looking, and, looking troubled, she passed the Twinkie down to him. "Why don't you eat this while I call a colleague to try and find your parents? Or your Uncle?"

"Okay," he agreed after a moment of consideration. It wasn't like he had a lot of other ideas. He sat, happily enough, and ate the Twinkie and it wasn't until two cops came round the corner that he finally understood that the adventure was over.

* * *

"So what happened after that?" Rusty asked intently.

Danny shrugged. "They took me off to the cop shop. Fed me. Gave me juice. They found out that my parents were on the other side of the country." He smiled slightly. "You wouldn't _believe _the look on their faces when they figured that out."

Rusty grinned. "You've always been unbelievable."

"Anyway," Danny went on. "Guess they phoned Mom and Dad after that. Not that I knew about it. Too busy being spoiled rotten by the cops."

"Making new friends?" Rusty smiled.

Danny nodded. "They kept giving me candy and ice cream. You'd have loved it. Got to try on their helmets. Got to sit in a cop car with lights and sirens too."

"Fun as long as you're not getting arrested," Rusty noted.

"Never gonna happen," he grinned. He paused. "For six months after that, I wanted to be a cop," he added.

Rusty blinked. "_Really?" _

"Yeah," he smiled. "Probably wouldn't have lasted so long if Mom and Dad hadn't both been so insistent that it wasn't a suitable career for me." His smile faded. "They arrived in the evening. Caught the first flight down."

The cops hadn't been pleased to see them, he remembered that. There'd been muttering and cold looks when Mom had swept into the room, Dad a couple of steps behind, and Danny had just stood, meek and quiet, while Mom railed at him and Dad looked disappointed, while they told him how reckless he was, how stupid and thoughtless and selfish and inconsiderate. After a couple of minutes the cop-in-charge had interrupted. "Your son's _fine, _by the way, Mrs. Ocean," he'd said, with a look that Danny didn't understand, and then he'd been bundled out of the room while the cops discussed things with his parents.

"They kept them talking for a long time," Danny remembered. "They'd noticed I'd gone that morning, but they'd figured I was just hiding somewhere, sulking. Hadn't reported me missing. Guess the cops just wanted to check I wasn't being ill-treated or anything." He laughed a little at the thought.

Rusty didn't.

Danny scowled. "Oh, come on," he complained gently. "They're not the best parents, I know, but they don't...I mean I'm not..." He hesitated, hovering over the words they didn't use. "No one else would have a problem with the way they treat me," he pointed out.

Rusty did have a problem with it, and Danny could see the arguments forming, could see Rusty's unbreakable conviction that everyone should see Danny the way he did, could see himself in Rusty's eyes, special, unique, extraordinary, _loved, _and he smiled and shook his head.

There was a sigh and Rusty looked away and frowned suddenly. "The music's stopped," he said tersely.

It had. He looked out of the window cautiously, Rusty beside him. The lights in the school were turned off, one by one. Finally everything was dark. Silent. And no one came anywhere near the office. No one let them out.

Rusty stared blankly. "We're trapped in here," he said, his voice wound tight with desperation.

Danny swallowed hard. "Yeah," he agreed, and he held Rusty's hand and wished he could promise that it was going to be all right.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	26. When we were young Part 2

**A/N: So we all understand why the multipart chapters, right? Because sometimes things drag on too long, and want to break it up for ease of reading. Yeah. This part of this story arc is 32 pages long. So much for that plan. **

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 25 and 26) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**13. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**16. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**17. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**18. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**19. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**21. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**22. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

* * *

For a moment the blood was pounding in Danny's ears and he was caught in the grip of the irrational and the unreasoning. Then, with an effort, he forced himself to take a mental step backwards from the edge of panic. There was no use in it, after all. They might be in trouble but they weren't in any immediate danger. He took a deep breath, controlled himself, and he squeezed Rusty's hands tightly, stared deep into his eyes until he was able to do the same.

They were together. They were together and Rusty exhaled shakily, nodded jerkily and blind, unthinking terror faded.

"We can't get out," Rusty said again and this time his voice was steady.

Danny nodded and took another look round at the unopenable door and the useless windows. "So what are we going to do?" he asked deliberately, forcing Rusty to think.

"They'll have to open the door in the morning?" Rusty began uncertainly.

"Yes," Danny said firmly. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "The very longest we'll be in here is nine hours. That's not so bad." At least there was a definite ending and he watched Rusty's face and saw it helping a little.

Nine hours. And what then? They'd be found by the school secretaries, locked in an office where they had no business being. Everyone would know they'd broken in. The principal would be involved. The police. Maybe they'd be arrested. Criminal proceedings. A trial. Punishment. But most of all, what there would be, was phonecalls. Mom would be phoned. Dad. And he could already imagine the screaming match that would inevitably follow. The points that they'd score on each other. Danny's latest screw-up. Dad, blaming Mom for letting him run wild. Mom saying that none of this would have happened if Dad hadn't left. Both of them blaming him, blaming the company he kept, blaming Rusty. Both of them cold and disappointed and angry. Mom would ground him, Dad would refuse to let him visit (_even more than he already was) _and he'd never see freedom again. And that wasn't the worst. Because Rusty's dad would be brought in too. Rusty's dad would be told that his son was bad. Would have people - maybe even the police – knocking on his door, wanting to talk to him about his son, and Danny could imagine the reaction, the immediate violence, the raining down of cruelty and viciousness and Rusty would be helpless and Danny couldn't stop it and nobody else would care and maybe this time Rusty wouldn't get up afterwards.

"Think we don't want to be seen when they open that door," Rusty commented. "Guess there's places we could hide. Inner office. Or behind the stationery cupboard maybe." He didn't say – neither of them said – that hiding wouldn't do much good. "Maybe we'll get lucky. Get to a point when no one's looking. Get to sneak out. Long as we aren't seen."

As long as _one _of them wasn't seen. There was a difference between unpleasant and dangerous, and maybe if Rusty hid, Danny getting caught would be enough distraction, would take the secretaries out of the room for long enough for Rusty to escape.

Rusty scowled. "_No, _Danny."

He sighed. Tried to argue. "It would be better - "

" - not a chance," Rusty insisted and Danny knew it could never go any other way. He just somehow wished it could.

"So we both hide," he agreed heavily.

"And hope," Rusty nodded.

"What are we going to do in the meantime?" Danny asked.

Rusty shrugged and slumped back down beneath the window. After a moment he pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.

Grimacing, Danny settled down beside him. "There's a good chance they'll smell that when they come in," he pointed out casually.

Rusty didn't look at him. "Walls are closer," he said vacantly, and beneath Danny could hear the effort of control.

Danny bit his lip and didn't say anything else, and he sat a little closer to Rusty and their shoulders brushed and he tried not to think that this might be their last night of freedom, their last night of together.

"I ran away once," Rusty said suddenly.

"_Once," _Danny questioned before he could stop himself, because he remembered – he'd never be able to forget – a conversation in the dark over a year ago and Rusty, defensive and earnest, telling him that he'd only had to sleep on the streets twice.

Rusty leaned back and blew smoke towards the plaster ceiling. Danny watched and reflected that it was a good thing that there was no smoke alarm in the room. (_Smoke alarm. He frowned and that should mean something.)_

"Second time I didn't exactly run," Rusty said at last.

Danny could probably have spent the rest of his life screaming about the implications. Instead he nodded. "You know you don't need to tell me about this, Rus'. Not unless you're _sure._" It was something that Rusty had always refused to talk about before. And no matter how much part of Danny might want – _need -_to know, he was never going to force the issue.

Rusty turned his head and smiled at him and started talking.

* * *

Robert was six or seven. He knew that; it was June now and Miss Thorpe had told him his birthday was the twenty-fifth of June, once she'd finished looking puzzled and the other kids had almost finished laughing at his confused explanation that he didn't _have _a birthday. Later, Bruce had derisively demanded if he was so stupid he'd forget cake and presents and he'd blinked and suggested that Bruce was thinking of Christmas. Christmas meant presents. Candy at least. Or at least it had. Up until last year, up until they'd got told he was too bad, Mom would take him down to the shop on the corner, late at night, and he'd get as much as he could carry and he'd eat half of it and spend Christmas Day feeling full and warm and he'd taste chocolate on his lips for hours afterwards. The rest, he'd carefully save for lean times.

Christmas meant presents but it turned out that birthdays _also _meant presents, to other people. Took him a while to get to grips with that. Finally he figured that other people celebrated because their families were happy they were alive and growing up.

He figured that out a little after his third week of school, when Nicholas' mom had handed him the party invitation and told him to make sure to give it to his mother.

It took him a long time to puzzle out the words, but eventually he realised that he shouldn't give it to Mom at all. She wasn't the one being invited, after all. He'd been invited to Nicholas' birthday party and he was excited and happy, because Nicholas was _fun _and he'd never been to a party before.

Day of the party, and even following the directions Nicholas had given him, it took him a couple of hours to walk to the house and when he got there he discovered he was the only one who wasn't brought to Nicholas' house by his parents. And he was the only one who was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. And he was the only one who hadn't brought a present. He stood in the hallway, aware of all the other boys in smart shirts, all the girls in pretty dresses, all being cooed over by the assembled parents, and he was suddenly very conscious that Mom hadn't done a laundry for a while, and he'd just picked up the cleanest clothes he could find from the floor. He got a different sort of look, and plenty of comments that they thought he was far too young to understand.

He hadn't known they were supposed to bring presents. Where was he going to get money to buy a present? Where had everyone else found money to buy a present? And when he stammeringly explained that he didn't have anything when Nicholas' mom, looking distracted and frazzled, directed him to put the non-existent present on the table in the hall – which was _covered _in brightly wrapped packages, surely more stuff than anyone could use in a _lifetime_ – she'd blinked at him and smiled sadly and told him to go play outside with the other boys and girls and he'd pretended he didn't see all the adults watching him carefully and exchanging disapproving glances and tutting to themselves. Somehow, he thought that if he got through this party without being punished, it would be a miracle.

"Rus'..." Danny sighed.

"I know," Rusty said quickly. "But at the time I thought that anyone might turn round and hit me."

"And you'd have let them," Danny said savagely.

Rusty shrugged. "How would I have stopped them?" Danny could hear the hopelessness in his voice, and it wasn't normally there, no matter how bad things got Rusty was defiant and unbreakable, and Danny would give _anything _to set Rusty free right now.

The party was fun. Running around in Nicholas' backyard, hours of games and he was careful not to win and he was careful not to come last, and he was careful not to get caught cheating.

And then they were called inside and the dining table was laden down with more food than he'd ever seen in his life. He followed uncertainly as the other children charged forwards, grabbed at paper plates, piled food on them. He wasn't sure what he was allowed to eat. Or even _if _he was allowed to eat; after all, he hadn't brought Nicholas a birthday present and Mom had always told him that food was expensive, and Dad had always told him that ungrateful bastards didn't deserve it.

He hesitated and then Brady told him to try the potato-things, and, before he could say anything, he dumped a couple of pieces of stuff onto Robert's plate.

Cringing, he waited a moment before eating, but no-one said anything. So he gulped down the mysterious potato-shapes as quickly as possible, and they were some of the most amazing things he'd ever tasted. All warm and crisp and soft and buttery inside and breadcrumbs and it was all he could do to even attempt to chew before swallowing.

And still no-one objected so, feeling happy and daring, he took a step closer to the table and grabbed a few different things and took them away to the corner to eat. Somehow a peanut butter sandwich and a couple of cookies found their way into his pocket. The rest though, the rest he tried to eat as quickly as possible. Until Nicholas' mom stood directly in front of him. "Robert," she said, and it wasn't quite a yell but it certainly wasn't a happy tone. "Don't inhale your food. You'll choke."

He dropped the piece of pastry he'd been wolfing down with a guilty look. He didn't exactly understand all the words she'd said but he guessed he wasn't supposed to eat anymore. Oh, well. He'd done quite well. And he still had the other stuff for later, if he got hungry again.

He spent the rest of the time whole the other kids were eating chatting happily to his classmates. Brady tried to get him to take a bowl of ice-cream, but he smiled, said no, and listened to Bruce telling anyone who'd listen that _his _birthday was next month and the party was going to be the most amazing thing _ever. _Apparently there were going to be clowns. Apparently that was good.

After a time, Nicholas' mom stepped out of the kitchen carrying an enormous chocolate cake in the shape of a space rocket, with 6 brightly lit candles along the back.

They all started singing. Luckily he knew the song; they'd sang it to Nicholas in class on Thursday.

A few minutes later, he was smiling at the large piece of cake that Nicholas' mom had handed him. It looked _delicious_. He'd never had cake before.

He was just about to take a bite when his hand was grabbed and twisted painfully and the cake was snatched away. He stilled instantly, fighting the desire to lash out and the desire to run. Looking up carefully, he saw Nicholas' older brother staring down at him.

"_You _didn't bring Nicholas a present. And Mom and Mrs. Peterson and _everyone _says that you're all filthy and dressed in rags and scrawny, and it's a disgrace and someone should do something. So I'm doing something."

"You're taking my cake?" Robert asked quietly.

"I'm taking _Nicholas' _cake _back"_ the boy corrected.

Robert nodded and stepped back. He couldn't hope to win the fight. Not like he was in a hurry to get hurt. And he wasn't going to complain to anyone, even if he'd thought they'd take his side. He didn't whine. Besides. The boy had a point.

* * *

"Nicholas' older brother?" Danny checked quickly. "So that'd be Jeremy Raeburn, right? Year younger than me?"

"Yeah..." Rusty blinked at him and sighed. "Oh, you are not doing that. He was seven at the time. It was six years ago. You really planning on yelling at him for something that happened six years ago?"

Danny shrugged. Yes, he wanted to yell at him. He wanted to yell at him and punch him and make him cry and he wanted to get Rusty as much chocolate cake as he could possibly eat. "He had no right to do that," he said instead. "No right at all."

Rusty waved a hand dismissively. "Like I said. It was a long time ago. I know better now."

"Good," Danny said shortly.

Rusty's expression took on a dreamy quality. "Chocolate cake is _definitely_ worth a beating."

"Not funny," Danny said after a moment, his voice tight and controlled. Not even a little bit funny.

The apology was immediately evident on Rusty's face, and Danny sighed and shook his head.

Rusty looked round the room quickly, eyeing the walls, the doors, the windows, as if he was hoping there'd suddenly be another way out and Danny knew that he was trying to keep things normal, keep himself calm. He shrugged uncomfortably. "Last birthday party I went to for a while, anyway."

"You came to mine," Danny pointed out, resting his head back against the wall.

"Well I'd figured out how to get people presents by then," he explained, grinning.

"Right," Danny nodded. "Because obviously I'd have kicked you out if you didn't get me something."

"Exactly," Rusty grinned happily. "That's just the kind of person you are."

They both laughed, comfort in absurdity, and there was silence for a moment.

Rusty grimaced. "Got a little distracted there didn't I?" He made an effort to smile and it didn't reach his eyes. "I was meant to be telling you about the time I ran away."

"You don't need to," Danny said again gently. "Don't unless you want to."

"What else have we got to do?" Rusty asked brightly.

Danny shrugged. "We could fix their filing system for them."

A laugh that was almost genuine. "Planning on being a secretary when you grow up?"

"I like to think I have a working knowledge of the alphabet," Danny said loftily. Unlike whoever did the school filing. They'd found Doug Fletcher's permanent record under 'R' one time. For 'rapscallion', Rusty had suggested. Danny thought that it was possibly a surprisingly well thought-out security measure.

"I've wanted to tell you before," Rusty said quietly, suddenly serious. "I've thought about it..." He sighed and lit another cigarette. Danny carefully didn't make any comment about lingering smoke. Or about lung damage. "It's difficult."

Danny sat a little closer and silently reminded Rusty that he was here, that he was always here, and that, really, everything was okay.

Rusty laid his hand briefly on Danny's and stared at his shoes.

* * *

Robert was six or seven and he thought that maybe he was going to die soon.

Dad had been away for a while now. Before he'd left, he'd told Robert's mom that he had a job and he'd be out of town for a few days or so. But it had been longer than that, and with every day that passed, Mom had got stranger. More erratic. He was doing his best to stay out of her way, but it just wasn't working. She'd come into his room last night. Woken him up. Screamed at him for throwing stones at her cat. They didn't have a cat. Not for as long as he'd been alive, anyway. She hadn't really hurt him at least. She'd just shaken him a couple of times, slapped him once or twice, and then he'd been able to run and hide in the bathroom until he heard her go to bed. The day before he'd watched as she put every piece of clothing in the house into a pile and then started cutting all of them into exactly thirteen pieces. Luckily he'd managed to steal most of his stuff back, certainly all the best outfits he was trying to keep reasonable for school. The day before that, she'd been convinced he was his dad.

Things were bad and when he had to move at all, he crept about the flat as quietly as he did when Dad was hungover. He didn't want to go out if he could help it. He had a horrible feeling that she wouldn't let him back in. Most of his time was spent lying on the floor of his room, drawing pictures with a crayon and a notebook that he'd stolen from school. As much as he thought about it at all, he told himself that they had lots of them. They'd never miss what he took. And he'd wanted _something_.

Eventually he got thirsty and he quietly opened the door, made sure there was no sign of Mom in the living room, and he snuck into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water. He didn't bother looking in the fridge; there was nothing there. Right now he was living on the last of the cornflakes and a giant tub of peanut butter mom had brought back last week. It was pretty good, really, and he was just helping himself to a couple of spoonfuls when Mom suddenly appeared behind him and shoved him back against the kitchen counter.

He hadn't heard her come in. That _never _happened. She must have been moving as quietly as...as quietly as...as quietly as _he _did_._

She was staring at him, anger and confusion and rage on her face. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice more hostile than he could ever remember it being.

He bit his lip. Hunched his shoulders. Tried to be a smaller target. "Mom, it's me," he told her quietly. "Robert. Your son."

"Liar!" she exclaimed and she slapped him across the face hard. Dazed, he cowered back against the kitchen counter, vaguely aware of her leaping back and when he next managed to focus his mom was pointing a knife at him.

"Mom...Mom, don't. Please." He was trying to keep the whine out of his voice. Trying to keep from pleading. He licked his lips, tried to keep his voice steady and lied. "I know you don't want to do this."

She took a step closer and the point of the knife swung up at it was at his face, at his left eye, and he was trapped and he had nowhere to run and he could already imagine how it could feel and there was no mercy in his Mom's eyes.

"Who are you?" she said again, her voice trembling with anger and disgust. "I don't know you. I really don't think you should be here. Not looking at me. Don't look at me!" He wanted to look away. Thought that maybe looking away would make it safer. But she was still holding the knife and he was _frightened _and he didn't know what he'd done wrong and he stared at her and shrank further back against the counter. "_Who are you?" _she asked and he didn't have any other answer and he was trembling and he couldn't help it. "Filthy. Disgusting. I don't like your eyes. They're evil. Looking at me."

There was blank hatred in her eyes and she laid the point of the knife against his face and the point was a hairsbreadth from his eye, and if he moved even a fraction..."Looking at me with those disgusting eyes," she muttered, and he took the risk, the chance, jerked his head back, threw himself to the side, and he heard the crack as the knife hit the counter behind where he'd been standing, and he dodged around Mom even as she screamed and he ran for the door as quickly as he could.

* * *

Danny knew he was staring. Knew his face was a mask of horror. "She tried to kill you," he said blankly.

Rusty shrugged uneasily. "She wasn't exactly trying to kill me. And she really wasn't responsible, Danny. She was never...She was sick and out of her head on who knows what." His arms were wrapped tightly round his knees and he was shaking with the pain of memory and Danny neglected the need to point out that there was _never _an excuse to hurt the people you were supposed to love, in favour of leaning in closer and brushing his hand through Rusty's hair and Rusty moved sideways and leaned his head against Danny's chest.

Time passed in silence. The trembling eased. Rusty's breathing evened out and if Danny didn't know better he might have thought that Rusty had fallen asleep.

He frowned and something was bothering him. A memory from a very long time ago. Back when he'd first met Rusty. Playing cowboys. A childish voice, fear overlaying it, a passing moment of blankness that he'd later learn to associate with screaming memory. _I don't like knives. Sorry, Danny._

He closed his eyes, and he knew now what nightmares he'd been invoking and the urge to apologise was sudden and absolute.

"Rus', I..." he began and then Rusty looked up at him, trust and gratitude and wonder and _love_ shining, and he blinked and smiled and in the end he said nothing.

* * *

He stumbled out of the building into the street and he'd never know if she followed him or not but he ran and didn't stop running for a very long time. Not until he'd left behind everything familiar. Everything he knew, everywhere he'd ever been. He ran and ran and hoped he'd be safe and he only stopped when he couldn't run anymore.

When he looked round, catching his breath, he realised he was in a playground. There were some teenagers playing basketball on the court. Some kids around his age playing on the swings and the slides, their anxious parents watching from nearby.

He had no idea what to do now. He couldn't go back – he shivered at the very thought and the memory of Mom's blank, staring eyes rose up, phantom-like, in front of him.

Somehow, he found himself wondering if it would hurt as much as he'd thought. Maybe she'd only been trying to scare him. Maybe she'd just have taken the blade right up next to his eye and then laughed at him for being a coward. Maybe she thought it was just a funny joke. Somehow he couldn't make himself believe it. She'd meant it all right. And what would she have done once she'd taken his eyes? Once he was helpless and couldn't see. She'd have done something, he was sure. He'd have been screaming after all. Crying, if he still could. No matter how much he was convinced that it never helped anything, he didn't think he'd have been able to stop. He'd have been screaming and crying and Mom didn't _like _that sort of thing. And she'd still have been holding the knife.

He shivered again. He couldn't risk going back. Not until he knew it was safe. He'd wait until Dad got home. Mom was only like this because Dad was away; when Dad was here he'd give Mom things when she started acting strange and she'd calm down. He'd go home when Dad was back. (_And if Dad never came back?) _And he'd be punished for running away, of course, that was something he was absolutely not supposed to do. He was supposed to stand still and take whatever he had coming. But that was alright too. That'd be everything back to normal.

And anyway, that was all a problem for later, and not one that he'd be able to do anything about. He didn't know when Dad would be back, after all. Could be tonight. Would hopefully be tonight. But it could be tomorrow. Could be days away. And he didn't know what he was going to do till then. Where he was going to go. If anyone knew he'd run away from home they'd drag him to the police, and if he was very, very lucky _they'd_ take him home to Mom and leave it to her to show him what happened to ungrateful, defiant little boys.

For a brief moment he considered going round to one of his friends' houses. Brady or Cameron maybe. They'd probably both be at Brady's house, actually. And they'd probably both be happy to see him. They could play for a few hours, and Brady's mom always made the best snacks and she always encouraged him to eat as much as he wanted, and probably no-one would mind if he stayed for dinner. Maybe he could even stay the night. Brady was always inviting him to, since Cameron's mom said they were too young. Trouble with that was that Brady's mom said each time that he couldn't spend the night unless she'd made the arrangements with his parents. And that was never going to happen. And, come to think of it, every time he showed up she'd always ask if his parents knew where he was. And, when they didn't arrive to pick him up, she always insisted on walking him home.

No. He couldn't go home and he couldn't go to his friends, and he didn't have _anywhere_ to go.

* * *

"You _always_ have somewhere now," Danny promised.

For a moment he thought he saw a flash of guilt deep in Rusty's eyes, but before he could say anything, before he was certain, it was gone and Rusty's smile was light and mocking. "You been watching the After School Specials again?"

Danny didn't bother with embarrassment. "It's not sentimental if it's true."

* * *

He stayed in the playground until after it got dark. Long after the basketball players had called it quits. Long, long after the very last of the other children had been dragged home by annoyed parents. He'd spent the time playing quietly by himself, gently and politely rebuffing all attempts by other kids to get him to join in their games. They noticed him, their parents would notice him. It was always best to be invisible. Robert hadn't met a single person in his whole life that he wanted to _see _him.

A while after it got dark, a different group of teenagers moved into the basketball court. These ones didn't have a basketball, they had bottles. Several bottles. And they hadn't seen him yet but he still wanted to leave now, before they saw him and decided he looked like entertainment.

Quickly, he walked away and started wandering through dark streets, walking in the opposite direction every time he saw another person. He had no idea what he was doing. All he had was a vague hope that if he headed home, Dad would be there.

It took him a couple of hours to walk back home across the city. It had seemed a shorter distance when he'd been running. By the time he got back he was exhausted, bone-weary and his feet hurt and he was _hungry._ Which was stupid. He knew there was no food to be had. And he'd gone longer than _this _without eating. He was just being a pathetic little crybaby, just like Dad always said.

Stubbornly setting his jaw, he looked up at the apartment. The light was on in the living room. That was good. Would make this easier. Now, all he had to do was climb up the rusty ladder of the fire escape on the building opposite. Couple months back he'd discovered that if he crouched in just the right place – _here – _he could see straight into their living room. Of course, this was the first time he'd done it hoping to find that Dad _was _here.

Peering across the street, he could see Mom lying on the sofa, the knife clasped loosely in her hands. She wasn't wearing any clothes and he looked away quickly.

No sign of Dad. He hadn't come home yet. And that meant Robert didn't dare to either.

He scrambled back down the fire escape and began wandering away as fast as he could. Each step made his feet hurt even more, but that didn't matter. It was only pain, after all, and he couldn't stop imagining Mom coming running down the stairs, knife ready to slice into his eyes, and he had to get away.

Once again he found himself in unfamiliar streets, and it was late now, and all the people he saw were adults, and most of them smelt of alcohol and a lot of them were shouting, and he was frightened and he had to find someplace to hide.

He cut down a quieter street, this one full of shops all closed for the night. It felt a little safer and he stood in the empty road, blinking and exhausted, staring at a bakery. Bakeries were good. They smelled nice. And this one had a little nook of space between the pillar, the wall and the doorway, and if he squeezed himself just right he could fit inside it. Felt safe. The stone was cold against his back though. He wished he had something more than a t-shirt on. But really, it wasn't that cold, and he should be thankful for that. There were plenty worse off than him. Worse things happened at sea; he could be drowning too. He smiled and the emptiness gnawed at his stomach and he reminded himself again that there was no point in worrying about it. Least it should make it harder to fall aslee...

He slept uneasily. Dreams where Mom found him here mixed with dreams in which he was staring up at Dad through sightless eyes, and he couldn't dodge and he couldn't run and he couldn't hide, and it _hurt_ and Dad told him why he deserved it. He woke regularly, biting his lip to keep from crying out, and sometimes, often, he was woken by noise from the street; the sound of a car going past, people walking near him, other sounds that he couldn't even place. Everytime, wide-eyed and fearful, he'd press himself further into the wall and, shivering, he'd silently plead with the world not to find him. He knew no-one was listening. No-one ever listened to what he wanted.

As it happened, he wasn't found till early morning. He woke again and it was lighter, dawnlight, and he could hear someone coming towards him. He kept absolutely still. Willed them to walk on by, but instead they came up the stairs towards the door, and he heard the jangle of keys. Must be the owner opening the shop. He bit his lip and hoped the man wouldn't look down.

"Jesus!" Hoping didn't work. "Hey! You alright? You can't sleep here."

He risked a quick glance upwards. Caught sight of an old man, frowning down at him. He looked down again hastily, staring at the ground respectfully.

"You're...you're just a baby." The man sounded shocked and Robert knew that any minute now the man would realise how awful he must be to be out here without his parents. Sure enough a hand came down towards him. "Come on out of there, will ya? It's okay." He flinched away as the hand came near him and immediately dodged the follow-up blow that he was sure would follow. He must have been successful; there was no pain and he managed to scramble to his feet, dodge round the man's legs and sprint away while the man just stood there.

Four blocks away, he sat on the kerb and considered his position. He was still bone tired, and his feet were hurting enough that he was left with a definite desire not to take his shoes off, and his back and neck and _everywhere_ was aching from the way he'd been sleeping, and he was so _hungry _and _thirsty._ He took a deep breath. Well, most of that couldn't be helped and so there was no use whining about it. In a couple of hours the streets would be full again and he didn't want to be seen by anyone. He'd try find someplace comfortable to hide. And in the meantime, he figured he could do something about his thirst.

He wandered around for a while and finally found a public toilet. Turning on the tap, he stared doubtfully at the water. It wasn't exactly clear. But his mouth was dry and his throat was painful and his head was beginning to hurt, and it had been almost a day now, since he'd had anything to drink, and he wasn't exactly seeing a lot of outstanding choices here. He put his mouth to the stream of water and gulped at it. It tasted awful. Bitter and rancid and greasy, somehow. He'd had a vague plan to drink as much as he could in order to fill his stomach and suppress hunger, but he just couldn't force any more than a few mouthfuls down before he started to feel sick.

As he headed back out into the street, his stomach growled loudly and he ignored it resolutely. With any luck, tonight he'd be back home and he'd be able to eat...well, not as much as he wanted. He grinned to himself; that was a stupid, impossible dream.

* * *

Danny found that ignoring the urge to search through his pockets to confirm what he already knew was difficult. He didn't have any food on him. He didn't have anything to give to Rusty. And all he was doing was listening to the story and his eyes were still stinging with unshed tears.

Rusty glanced at him and caught his expression, his thoughts, and for a moment he looked torn between amusement and irritation. In the end he settled on affection and understanding. "It was a long time ago, Danny. I'm hardly a starved child now."

Danny just looked at him.

Rusty sighed. "Everything's better now, remember?" He looked round the room. Licked his lips. "Well, apart from the whole bit where we're trapped in here with no way out unless someone lets us out, but no one knows we're here, so no-one can let us out and if they do they'll know we're here, and - "

Danny put a finger firmly against Rusty's lips. Then he leaned in and kissed him gently on the forehead and pressed his face into Rusty's hair for a moment. "If it all goes wrong," he said quietly. "Really wrong, I mean." If they were caught, and they both knew how bad the consequences could be. "We might have to run." It would be better than the alternative.

Rusty stilled. He looked up at Danny carefully. "We don't have anywhere to go."

"I know," Danny told him. But there were things he wasn't going to allow. They got caught like this, his parents weren't going to accept a promise of better grades and a squeaky clean appearance. They were going to take Rusty away. And Rusty's dad wasn't going to stop.

There was a pause and Rusty studied his face thoughtfully. Then he closed his eyes and nodded slowly. Accepted.

* * *

He spent the day moving through the streets, concentrating on being a nothing, an insignificance. He curled up on doorsteps, huddled beneath walls, was small and silent and invisible. And still, he could never seem to stay anywhere for more than a couple of hours before he'd see people start to notice him, to frown, to wonder why he was alone, and painfully he'd stand up and he'd move on.

An alley and a pile of soggy cardboard boxes that looked comfortable and he thought that maybe he could catch a few hours sleep where no one would look. But the moment he stepped too close, a tall man with a wild beard had stood up from out of a pile of garbage, screaming and swinging a bottle towards his head, and for a terrifying moment, Robert had been paralysed, caught in present fear and too many over-vivid memories, and it wasn't until the bottle broke against the wall, just above his head, that he was able to turn and run.

He wasn't followed, and he sat hidden behind a dumpster a couple of blocks away, brushing the glass shards out of his hair, and considered that if something looked too good to be true, it probably was.

He spent the afternoon in a park. A different one from yesterday; he'd ended up in a different part of the city. This one was mostly full of adults. Plenty of them were sunbathing, and Robert took the opportunity to stretch out on the grass and hopefully look just like everyone else. Certainly no one bothered him, and the ground was softer than stone and he felt some of the ache in his muscles ease a little. He didn't fall asleep though. There was no chance of that. Too much noise. Too many people. Too much danger.

After a time he noticed an old woman sitting on a bench, feeding the pigeons, dropping crumbs of bread on the ground at her feet. Tempting. Very, very tempting. He was so hungry. And as long as no-one noticed... He snuck closer and crept under the bench, nestled inches from her feet. She dropped the a handful of crumbs and his hand darted out and caught a few before they hit the ground. He stuffed them in his mouth quickly. Not bad, actually. Fresher than what he normally got. But they were so small, and even though he managed to grab another few handfuls, it really didn't go any distance towards lessening the hunger, and before he knew it, she was brushing the last of the breadcrumbs from her hands and walking away.

Robert and the pigeons watched her go and he had the feeling that none of them were satisfied.

It was maybe an hour before sunset when he decided that it was time to go and see if there was any sign of Dad back home. Luckily he'd managed to stay off his feet enough today that walking didn't hurt so very much, and he trudged back to his own neighbourhood slowly. The closer he got to his own building, the slower he walked and he wasn't sure whether he was hoping Dad would be in or dreading it. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be in a place where he could curl up in his own bed and be reasonably hopeful that he wasn't going to wake up to someone hurting him. He wanted to be in a place where he could sneak through to the kitchen and have a good chance of being able to eat something. He wanted to go home. Even if it meant facing Dad. Would just be for a little while. Pain passed. Nothing lasts forever. It was okay.

"Hey! Kid!" The voice was little more than a whisper and it came from the alley, and he turned to see two older boys crouched against the wall. He recognised them. Knew them, vaguely. Chip and Buzz Fairley.

He hesitated and walked over slowly. Chip had a wad of bloody tissue pressed to his nose. Buzz had his hand on his brother's shoulder, his face anxious and afraid. They looked, somehow, as if they'd been there for a while; their jackets were crumpled beneath them and there was a bag of chips lying crumpled on the ground between them.

Buzz glanced over at Robert, and Robert was hanging back away from them, well out of arm's reach. "Robert, right?" Buzz checked and he nodded slightly. "Listen, did you see anyone out in the street?"

"Did you see our Dad out in the street?" Chip asked, his voice muffled.

Robert thought for a long moment, playing every inch of his walk back in his mind. He hadn't been paying attention, but on some level he'd still seen. After a time he shook his head.

"You sure?" Buzz asked, and he nodded. Buzz breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

Robert smiled slightly and watched, dismayed, as Buzz absently picked up the bag of chips and made to throw it into the dumpster opposite. He must have made some small noise of protest, because Buzz turned and stared at him. "It's empty."

It wasn't. Robert could see from here. There were -

"Crumbs," Buzz said frowning. "There's just crumbs left."

"Do you want them?" Chip cut in, looking hard at him.

He hesitated, and he knew he wasn't supposed to ask for things like that, knew he wasn't supposed to be greedy...but he was so _hungry. _He nodded quickly and waited, staring at the ground, for their decision. He wasn't prepared, therefore, when Buzz stepped quickly towards him, and he leapt back, his arm already flying up in front of his face, protecting himself.

There was no pain, and when he carefully lowered his arm, Buzz looked upset and he pushed the bag of chips towards Robert abruptly. "Here. Eat."

He stared for a long moment, trying to measure if Buzz meant it, trying to guess if there'd be punishment, but Buzz seemed sincere and he tore the packet all the way open and grabbed at the chip crumbs eagerly with both hands, shoving as much into his mouth as quickly as he could.

Chip said a bad word, very softly.

Robert barely listened to the brothers' hurried, hissed conversation. He was too busy trying to scrape up as much food as he could, then trying to lick even the last traces of salt off his fingers.

"_We need to do something, Chip." _

"_What do you want to do? You want to take him home with us? We don't know that Dad won't be back tonight."_

"_You think he'll be safer if he goes home? At least Mom would feed him."_

"_Sure. Then Dad would kill her right after he got through killing us. And the kid." _

"_We can't leave him. You even got any money? We could feed him."_

"_I got nothing. You know that."_

Robert glanced up sharply. He wasn't asking for their money. And he didn't want anyone to get into trouble because of him. He pushed the now-completely-empty bag of chips back towards them. "Thank you," he said politely and he turned to walk out of the alley.

"Hey, wait!" Chip sounded surprised. Robert paused, but didn't turn round. There was a moment of hesitation. "Are you going to be all right?" Chip asked at last.

"Yes," Robert answered with absolute confidence.

* * *

It turned out that Dad still wasn't home and he was wondering now whether he ever would be. He sighed and didn't think on it, and he walked in the opposite direction; not daring to go near where he'd seen Chip and Buzz, not wanting them to ask any awkward questions.

It was dark and it was colder tonight and the hunger was biting into him and it actually hurt now, physically hurt, and he hated the feeling. There was dizziness and his arms and legs were trembling, and he didn't think it was just with the cold. He needed to eat, and soon. People died from not eating, he knew that, he just didn't know how long it took. He hadn't felt this hungry in a long while.

He roamed the streets, hungry and tired and desperate, and he found himself kicking at bits of abandoned garbage, hoping that there would be scraps of food hidden inside. Round the back of a burger bar he hit the jackpot. A half-eaten hamburger, still inside its paper wrapper. He stared down for a long moment. _Disgusting, _a voice whispered inside his head. _Like a wild animal._ And yeah. It was. He was. But he was starving and, with a quick look round to make sure that no-one could see, he grabbed the burger and stuffed half of it in his mouth as quickly as possible. It tasted soggy and disgusting, cold and stale, but it was _food _and he choked it down and ignored the memory of cookie crumbs and blood that rose up in his mind.

The other half he shoved in his pocket. For later. For worse times. There could always be worse times. There _would _always be worse times. In the meantime, he needed a place to sleep. No more doorways, he'd learnt that lesson. Nowhere anyone would want to go. Nowhere anyone could see him. Someplace hidden and unwelcoming.

He gazed thoughtfully further down the street. This place looked deserted. And that dumpster was almost but not quite against the wall. No room for an adult to squeeze in, but he thought maybe he could. If he crawled. He tried it. A snug fit, but he could get out either side, and he seriously doubted that anyone would be able to see him. Perfect, in other words.

He was fed, he had more food for tomorrow, and he'd be safe for a few hours sleep.

He was woken by a noise. A soft, scuffling, skittering, scratching sort of noise. A noise, and the feeling of something running past him, the ghost of a touch, hot, rancid breath against his face. For the slightest second he lay absolutely still, not daring to breath, his eyes squeezed tight-shut, clinging to ignorance, wishing that the world would just go away. And that made him a coward and that made him weak and he hated it. He opened his eyes. Stifled the whimper. The space beside the dumpster was alive with rats. Crawling past him. And most of them were rooting through the garbage around him, but there was one standing next to his leg. Looking at him. Consideration in beady little eyes, drool on sharp little teeth and before he could move, it jumped on top of him, little claws scrabbling over his jeans and the twitching little noise snuffling over the outside of his pocket.

The burger. God, the burger. That was what it was after, and that was the only food he had and he didn't want to share it with a rat, and if he moved he knew those teeth would sink into his leg, and he thought that maybe if he was actually bleeding the other rats might get more interested, and he felt sick at the thought. But he didn't want to give up his food.

Moving quickly he hit out at the rat, knocking it off him, backhanded, and it squeaked – screamed, really – and for a moment he felt pain on the back of his hand and there was no room for him to stand up, and he was crawling through the filth to get away, sobbing as the rats swarmed over his hands, past his legs, and it was a hundred, a thousand years before he managed to wriggle out of his hellish hiding place and stagger into the open air.

The tears were falling and he shoved the remains of the burger into his mouth as quickly as he could, choked it down and it tasted like blood and rancid meat.

* * *

Horror surged through every inch of Danny's being, and he held tight to Rusty and he wasn't sure which of them he was trying to comfort. Rats...and he could _see _them, could see their beady little eyes, their twitching little noses, their sharp little teeth, their jagged little claws...He shuddered with revulsion and pressed desperate kisses into Rusty's hair and in his mind he could see rats climbing over Rusty and he wanted to scream and Rusty didn't look at him and kept talking.

* * *

The tears were threatening to fall, terror and anger, and he bit his lip hard, refused to let them. He brushed frantically at his clothes, at his arms and legs, still able to feel the rats crawling over him, and feeling sick he kicked a stone hard towards the dumpster and the swarming rats. There was a loud bang and the rats vanished briefly and Robert clenched his fists tightly and turned away and found himself retching helplessly against the wall.

When he was done he stood up and wiped a shaky hand across his mouth. It wasn't the rats' fault. Wasn't the rats' fault that he was reduced to living in filth, sleeping on garbage, fighting with rats for the scraps of food that normal people threw away. Everything his mom said about him was true. He was disgusting. Filthy. Evil. He'd run away from pain like a pathetic little coward and he'd chosen to live like this because he was nothing. He was bad. He was bad and no matter what he did, he was never going to be good. Shame and self disgust rose over him and for a moment he almost wanted to run to the nearest police station and beg them to arrest him for being so awful. Fortunately, the impulse passed almost immediately and gradually fear and disgust and confusion were replaced by cool anger and calm determination. Fine. If he was bad then he'd be bad. He wasn't going to go and curl up in some forgotten corner and starve to death quietly, being grateful and good. He'd be bad and live.

He spent the rest of the night wandering the streets, not daring to stop, even for a moment, knowing that if he did he'd fall asleep and feeling absolutely certain in some, small, childish, unalterable part of his mind, that the moment he did, the rats would be back. And maybe this time he wouldn't wake up in time. He bit his lip at the thought and once again had to fight off the feeling that they were crawling all over him.

By the time daylight came, he could hardly keep his eyes open and he thought that probably only the pain of hunger was keeping him awake at all. The streets began to fill with people and it didn't feel safe. He ducked into a public restroom again. The water was cleaner this time and he drank as much as he could and cleaned himself up a little. Managed to get the worst of the dirt off his hands and face anyway. His hair and clothes were looking filthy and he stared at himself in the mirror and tried not to think about what they'd say if they saw him looking like this in school. Bad enough that he didn't have nice clothes without everyone knowing that he couldn't even keep himself clean.

Carefully he examined the bite on the back of his hand. It wasn't bleeding anymore and that was good. It stung though, and when he experimentally dripped cold water on it that _really _hurt. It was pretty filthy though, so he gritted his teeth and dabbed at it with a paper towel, getting the worst of the dirt off.

* * *

Danny couldn't stop thinking about infections and blood poisoning and rabies and a thousand other awful things that he was sure Rusty could have got. He couldn't help grasping Rusty's hand, turning it over gently, looking for a scar that he already knew wasn't there.

"It wasn't that bad," Danny," Rusty told him, softly but firmly.

Danny nodded. "It wasn't cleaned properly. You could have gotten sick."

Rusty shrugged. "If you think about how often I've got hurt and it hasn't...guess I'm just naturally tough."

He caught his breath. That had been a painful attempt at deflection. "You _did _get sick," he stated with unwelcome certainty.

Rusty stared at the door for a long moment and then closed his eyes. "Might not have been the rat bite," he said eventually.

Danny bit his lip.

"And it isn't as if I knew anything about - " Rusty continued.

" - I know," Danny cut in, because he still remembered Rusty's reaction to Mabel and antiseptic that first time. "Gonna tell me it wasn't that bad?"

Rusty sighed and half grinned at the familiar words. "Bad enough," he answered. "I was fairly out of it for a few days, I think. Remember curling up under the bed with a blanket and refusing to come out. Heard Mom talking about taking me to the doctors at one point. But they couldn't, obviously."

Danny nodded and didn't let himself think too hard about the 'obviously' and he certainly didn't let himself think too hard about Rusty sick and hurting and hiding under the bed, probably thirsty and uncomfortable and frightened and in pain and so very, very young. They'd both got used to the way things should be now, and that meant that when they were sick there was someone there to care and soothe and fetch food and water and help with trips to the bathroom and bring medicine. It hurt to remember that there'd been a time, not so long ago, when they'd both been so alone and so much more vulnerable.

Rusty looked back at him and smiled. "It could have been worse."

"Of course," Danny agreed hollowly. It could always have been worse.

"No, really," Rusty said seriously. "I could have ended up as some kind of were-rat."

Danny felt his lips twitch in spite of himself. "Cursed to undergo a horrific transformation every full moon - "

" - least I'd have a tail - " Rusty commented, hopefully and inexplicably.

Actually grinning, Danny went on. " - stuck in the form of a hideous beast. Even more than usual, I mean."

Rusty scowled at him and the pout was way overdone. "Stalking the streets by moonlight - "

" - striking terror into the hearts of..." He hesitated. "Everyone who's afraid of rats, I guess." He had a feeling that might include him now. They'd never bothered him in the past, but he didn't know if he'd be able to think of them again without seeing Rusty, young and helpless and afraid.

"And solving crimes," Rusty finished cheerfully.

"_Solving crimes_?" Danny repeated incredulously. "Is that what hideous were-creatures are known for these days?"

"Well, if I have a secret alter-ego, it's going to be as far from me as possible, right?" Rusty explained. "That's why Bruce Wayne throws all those parties and Batman doesn't know how to smile."

"So were-rat-you solves crimes," Danny nodded. That made sense.

* * *

Marginally cleaner, he wandered back into the streets. After a time of aimless wandering, he found himself in a quiet neighbourhood. Few shops, a diner, but most importantly, quite a few people just hanging around, kids playing in the streets or sitting on stoops, and no one was paying them any attention whatsoever. He figured he could blend in.

He limped over to the nearest building and sat on the step and gingerly, grimacing, pulled his shoe off. As he'd figured, his feet were a mess. Blisters had formed and burst and wept and bled. He sighed and wondered if it might be better to just leave the shoes off altogether. The problem with that was that he'd need to carry them, and if he had to move quickly, he might end up leaving them behind. And that would be one more thing he'd have to explain to Dad later. Best to wear them and walk carefully.

Yawning as he reknotted his laces, he leaned back against the wall and considered. The hunger hadn't gone away, not really, and he still felt cold and clammy, dizzy and lightheaded. Not a good sign. But the water had gone some way to relieving the pain of it, and the need to rest seemed more important right now. He pressed himself further into the wall, closed his eyes and dozed.

He woke up every time someone stepped too close, and he'd stare down at the street and watch the feet as they walked safely on by. No one stopped, thankfully. As far as he could tell, no one even spared him a second glance, and by the time the pressure in his bladder woke him fully to go and hide in the alley and relieve himself, he figured by the sun that it must be some time after noon.

Not much had changed since the morning. Different people. There was a loud group of teenagers a little further down the street. All maybe thirteen or fourteen, nearly adults, five boys on bikes and the girl they were showing off for. That wasn't what caught his attention though. They had pizza. He could see the box, propped on the wall next to them and unable to stop himself, he stood up and drifted closer, sticking to the other side of the street, not daring to get too close. Not yet anyway.

He could see that there were still a couple of slices left. Could see cheese and bacon and green pepper and onion and he _wanted_ it. Maybe if he just wandered up, like he was walking past them, he could grab a slice without any of them noticing. They'd put it down, after all. They obviously weren't that interested in it anymore. He stared and all he could think about was how hungry he was, and how good pizza tasted and the street was wavering at the edges of his vision, and he needed to eat, he really, really needed to. Wouldn't be that hard. He could just wander past and...

"Hey, kid!" The voice interrupted him. He turned his head sharply – a little too sharply and for a horrible, sickening moment, the world span like he was on a merry-go-round – and he realised that one of the boys, the one in the baseball cap, was watching him. The boy picked up the pizza box. "You want this?" he asked. "Come here."

He hesitated. Of course he hesitated. But he couldn't stop thinking about Chip and Buzz, last night. They'd given him food willingly enough. Sometimes people were kind.

"You want my pizza, kid?" the boy went on. "Come and get it." He held up a slice and waved it towards Robert, and Robert would swear that he could smell it, hot and fresh and there was nothing that he wanted more, and almost helplessly, he found himself crossing the street.

Almost immediately, the boys formed a circle around him, hemming him in, trapping them, and the girl behind them sighed heavily.

"You want this pizza, kid?" the boy in the cap repeated with an eager smile. "Say 'please'."

That was fair. "Please may I have some pizza?" he asked politely and the boys howled with laughter.

"You're going to need to do better than that, kid," the shortest boy sniggered.

He didn't understand, and he stared at the pizza in the boy's hand, and he reached up hopefully, and the boy snatched it back, raising it just out of Robert's reach.

"You're just a greedy little piggy, aren't you?" the boy in the cap grinned. "What the fuck do you think you're doing asking for people's food? You got no shame, little piggy?"

"Piggy, piggy," one of the boys behind him snorted.

The girl rolled her eyes disgustedly.

He felt a hand in his hair, jerking his head sideways and mercifully letting go almost immediately. "Look, he's even all dirty like a little piggy!"

"Like PigPen," the shortest boy jeered. "Where's Snoopy, PigPen?"

The boy in the cap leaned forwards. "You been rolling in the muck, piggy? You been rooting in the garbage?"

He felt heat rising in his cheeks and it was true and he had been, and didn't matter that he hated it, it was true and maybe he was greedy. Dad and Mom always said so, after all. And when he got the chance, he always seemed to want to eat more food than other people, and really, right now all he could think about was food. That was greedy, wasn't it? "No," he lied anyway and he felt sure that they knew the truth, and they were laughing again.

"Say you're a little piggy who likes rolling in garbage and you can have this pizza," the boy in the cap promised and he waved the pizza under Robert's nose. "You still want it don't you?"

Yes. Yes, he did. And he felt his stomach growl and he tried to grab for the pizza and the boy laughed and pushed him back lightly.

"Say it," the boy ordered, his smile gone. "Say it, and you get the pizza."

"No," Robert said softly. He didn't want to say it. He wasn't _going_ to say it. Dad played this game sometimes. Made him say things. True things. Things that _hurt_.

The boy shrugged and stuffed the whole slice of pizza in his mouth and ate it as fast as possible.

"No!" Robert burst out, and he immediately wished he hadn't. He turned, trying to get away, and he was jostled back into the middle of the circle and they weren't going to let him go.

The boys were laughing again, and they passed the pizza box over his head, and then the boy in the cap was waving the very last slice at him. "One more chance," the boy said through a mouth full of pizza. "You want it, little piggy? You're gonna have to work for it."

He wanted to run and he stepped back, and again, they pushed him forwards, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl shake her head. "Pathetic," she muttered, and she walked away. He wished he could.

"I don't want it," he lied and he still couldn't take his eyes off the pizza and the boy laughed derisively.

"Say you're a greedy little piggy who loves rolling in garbage," the boy demanded and he was staring at Robert and there was a look in his eyes that Robert had seen before, a look that promised consequences.

It was just words. What did it matter? And if he said them, he'd be fed, and if he didn't, he'd be hurt. Shouldn't be a choice here at all. He stared at the pizza. "I'm...I'm a greedy little piggy who loves rolling in garbage," he whispered, and the words cut right through him. This was what complete strangers thought, just by _looking _at him, and he was still so greedy that he was willing to do anything for food.

The boy started to hand the slice of pizza towards him and, just as he was about to grab for it, dropped it on the ground. "Oops," the boy said, grinning.

He stared down at the food. So close.

"Don't you want it anymore, little piggy?" the boy asked softly. "Pigs don't care if they eat off the ground, right?"

Wouldn't be the first time. And Mom and Dad had made it clear that he only ever considered acting like that because he was so awful and bad...but the pizza was right there. And it had only been there for a few seconds.

"Eat it!" the boy ordered. "Get down on your hands and knees and eat it!"

Robert started to obey but the moment he was on the ground, the boy stamped his foot down on the pizza and twisted his heel, rubbing it into the sidewalk.

There was a long moment and Robert stared up at the laughing boy and anger and defiance and hatred were nowhere in sight. Didn't mean that Robert wasn't _feeling_. He'd done what the boy wanted. And for nothing.

His face was blank when the boy moved his boot and he didn't take his eyes off the boy's face when he reached out a hand to the smear of crushed pizza, fully prepared to eat it anyway and not care.

The boy's face twisted with disgusted fascination, and then one of the other boys, one of the one's who hadn't said anything, shoved Robert out of the way, grabbed the remains of the pizza and threw it firmly into a nearby trash can. "That's _enough," _he said firmly.

Robert stared after the pizza. "Gonna eat it out the garbage?" the boy in the baseball cap asked hopefully.

For a moment, he considered it. Even shuffled closer to the trash can. But then he heard the flies buzzing and he could smell rancid food, rotting vegetables, and he _couldn't. _He wasn't that desperate. (_He wondered how long it would take him till he _was _that desperate.)_

The boy looked disappointed. "You bastard, Ben. I wanted to see him eat it."

Ben – the boy who'd stolen his pizza – sighed. "Leave the brat alone, can't you?"

"Nah," the boy shook his head, his eyes gleaming. "I want to see what else we can get the greedy fuck to do."

He wanted out of here. Even more than he wanted food, he wanted out of here. "Where's your girl?" he asked softly.

The boy glanced round stupidly. "Sandra?" She was long gone and the boy swore and looked round even more wildly. "Sandra!" he yelled, "Fuck, where did she go?" And then he was getting on his bike, and the other boys weren't surrounding him anymore, and Robert got to his feet and disappeared as quickly as possible.

* * *

Rusty came to a stop for the moment and he turned his head, his face blank, and he studied Danny carefully, looking for something.

Pity, Danny would guess. Or disgust, even. He met Rusty's gaze and let him see what was there; horror and grief and love and support and hate for everyone who'd hurt Rusty and a burning sense of never-again.

Rusty relaxed with a sigh. "I didn't really think - "

" - I know," Danny told him gently and he put an arm tightly round Rusty's shoulders. "Nothing changes."

"You wouldn't beg," Rusty said quietly, a hint of self-loathing in his voice.

Danny made himself stop and consider. "Now? No. And neither would you." He was absolutely certain. "But when I was a child? If I knew what you knew? Before you..." He trailed off and hoped Rusty knew exactly what he meant. Before he'd known Rusty, before he'd known what Rusty saw when he looked at Danny, before he'd been able to build his life round something other people could only dream about. "Before you? I think I'd have done the exact same thing."

Rusty almost looked convinced. Almost. "And you've never..." Rusty shrugged and trailed off and somehow managed to indicate a whole horror of experience that Danny had never had to adjust to.

"I've never," he agreed. "But you think I don't want to live just as much as you do? You think I wouldn't fight just as hard?"

Rusty frowned and his eyes were troubled. "I know," he said softly.

* * *

He'd learnt something anyway, not just about never expecting kindness, and he made more of an effort to be invisible as he checked out the diner. He didn't stare for one thing, he let his gaze wander past and then picked over the details he'd seen. The diner looked nearly nearly empty. The man and woman behind the counter looked too deep in conversation to notice anything amiss. The little glass containers on the side counter looked within easy reach of anyone crouching down behind the counter. The cupcakes _beneath _the glass containers looked...his mouth was watering. It looked easy enough. He could do this. He wrapped his arms around his stomach as it growled painfully; he thought maybe he _had_ to do this.

He watched until a couple came spilling out of the diner, the bell above the door jangling loudly, and he quickly dodged behind them, getting inside just before the door shut. Stupidly, he hesitated in the doorway. Huh. This was really the first time he'd been inside in three days. Felt a little strange. Shaking himself, getting over it, he glanced over at the counter. The man and the woman were still talking. Arguing, actually, by the looks of things. Wearing matching wedding rings. Must be a family business. Anyway, the point was that he figured they were probably distracted enough.

He crept into the diner, taking the long way round, ducking behind tables until he was crouched down beneath the side counter. The cupcakes were just above his head and he bit his lip. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this desperate. Quietly – very, very quietly and very, very carefully – he snaked his hand up and lifted the glass lid fractionally, holding his breath, terrified it was going to make a noise, that someone was going to notice. Then – even more quietly and even more carefully – he reached up with his other hand and his fingers closed around a cupcake, and he eased his hand back and replaced the lid noiselessly.

He stared down at his prize. Food. Delicious looking food. It was all he could do to avoid just stuffing it in his mouth there and then. Not very subtle. Instead he slowly made his way back round the way he'd came, keeping low and sneaking for the door. Not being seen. That was the point.

* * *

"Smooth," Danny approved and relief coursed through him. Of course he knew that Rusty had come out of it all okay. But that didn't stop the pain and it didn't stop the worry. "Very smooth."

Rusty nodded. "Up to a point," he agreed reluctantly.

Danny's eyes narrowed. "What point?"

"The point where I push the door open, the bell jangles fit to wake the dead and ten seconds later I'm running down the street with the owners charging after me," Rusty said with a sigh.

And Rusty might be fast and he might be good at running away from people, but he'd been six and they'd been adults. Danny closed his eyes. "They caught you," he said heavily.

Rusty nodded.

* * *

He got maybe twenty or thirty steps, shouting and anger and pounding footsteps on his heels all the way. Then the large hand closed around his shoulder and jerked him back and he stumbled and almost fell to the ground as a new wave of dizziness and weakness slammed over him. _Not now,_he told himself firmly. _Please not now._

Didn't seem to do much good and he was wheeled round roughly and found himself blinking stupidly at the diner owner, fighting to clear his head as his hand was wrenched open painfully and the cupcake was snatched away and thrust in his face.

"What's this, huh?" the man demanded angrily. "You think it's clever to steal, boy? You too good to pay money like everyone else?"

He watched vaguely as the man shoved the cupcake towards his wife, standing behind him, wearing a frown. For a moment all he could focus on was the sight of food being taken away from him and he couldn't quite suppress the whine of loss and disappointment and desperation that rose in his throat.

The man snarled at that and he was gripped by both shoulders, tighter than ever, and it _hurt_ and he was trapped and shaking and he knew what was coming next. He knew what always came next.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you that it was wrong to steal, boy?" the man asked menacingly, shaking him lightly with every word.

He shook his head truthfully and he gazed down at the ground and concentrated on being meek and respectful and sorry and grateful for correction...and he was _hungry. _He hadn't exactly known that it was wrong and he didn't exactly care.

"Easy, David," the man's wife murmured, and she sounded unhappy and he didn't know why.

The man looked even angrier and he shook Robert back and forth, hard, by the shoulders, and Robert was almost glad he was so hungry – he had a feeling that if he'd eaten anything recently he'd be throwing it up on the man's shoes right about now. "That's the trouble with kids today," the man roared. "Everyone goes easy on them. No discipline. Parents are too soft on brats like you. Not like in the good old days."

Robert shivered; that was what Dad always said. That he went easy on Robert. That he was soft. That Robert's punishments were _nothing _compared to what he'd got from his old man. That Robert would probably cry and wet his pants if he ever had to deal with real pain. And Dad's father had taken on monstrous form in Robert's mind; he'd long ago decided that in order to be that much worse than Dad the man must be twelve foot tall, built like Joe Frazier and _always_ drunk. And he didn't know how anyone kept from crying in the old days, if everything really hurt that much more.

He kept his mouth shut and his eyes down; when in doubt, keeping quiet was rarely actually bad, and he waited for the man to decide what to do with him.

"By God, if you were my son, I wouldn't go easy on you. If I was your father I'd soon sort you out. Teach you right from wrong. By the time I was through with you, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a month."

Dad made that threat sometimes. He'd never actually carried it out though. Normally it would just end with Robert not being able to stand or move very well for a few days and not being able to leave the house for a little longer. He could barely imagine how bad something would have to be to still hurt that much a month later, and maybe it was just because he was weak, but he thought there was a good chance that something that extreme would actually kill him.

He wasn't going to stand here and let it happen. He _wasn't. _He _couldn't._ And he didn't care how bad it was, because yeah, _Dad_ would always get him in the end if he struggled and if he ran, but this man didn't even know who he was. If he could get away, there could be no consequences, and he tried to wrench himself free and the man gripped harder, and he reached up and scratched viciously at the hand on his right shoulder, and the man yelled out, a sharp cry of unexpected pain and explosive fury and Robert didn't even see the punch coming.

He snapped awake and his head was pounding and there was blood in his eye and he was lying on the ground and he must've only been out for a couple of seconds, because the man was still just standing there, staring at him. His hand was still raised, but his wife had grabbed his elbow and they were both standing there like they were waiting for something, and a couple of other people had appeared at some point, were staring at the three of them, and there was anger and raised voices, and Robert's head hurt even more trying to figure it all out.

"I never..." the man began hoarsely and his voice trailed off. His eyes were wide and his face was twisted with emotion. "I _never..._"

"Bastard," someone muttered and with the return to something familiar, Robert came to his senses, scrambled to his feet and fled before the man remembered that he was supposed to be hitting and kicking and hurting.

* * *

"Doesn't matter that he was sorry, he still should never have hit you," Danny said, quiet and angry. "He had no _right _to hit you."

Rusty blinked and looked confused and for a horrible moment Danny was taken back to times when that simple idea had been as far out of Rusty's grasp as the stars. "He was _sorry_?" Rusty asked instead, and frowned. "Huh. He _was _sorry."

"You didn't - " Danny asked.

" - never thought about it," Rusty explained. "Just took it at face value." He yawned suddenly, and wriggled against the wall, trying to get comfortable.

Danny nodded slowly and thought about perspective and wondered how much they missed.

* * *

When he was sure he wasn't being followed he slumped down behind a wall and tried to get his breath back and tried to get control of the dizziness. His head hurt and his fingers traced over swelling and tenderness. There'd be an impressive bruise there soon. Good thing he didn't have to go to school anytime soon. And there was a cut and he absently pulled his t-shirt sleeve up to the side of his head and used it to soak up the blood. Must've been the man's wedding ring. It stung. He supposed he should be grateful Dad didn't have one. Not something he'd like to have to get used to.

He sighed. Well, that had been a dismal failure. But he still didn't feel like it had been the wrong choice, exactly. Just that he'd gone about it the wrong way. For a start, he'd got caught, and he'd been holding the cupcake so there hadn't even been a chance of denying it. He sighed again and dropped his head into his hands, exhausted and hungry. Other people got to have food, and, frustrated, he thought about the diner owner asking why he didn't pay money like everyone else. He didn't have any money. But other people had money, and they used it to buy food, and he wanted some.

His attention was caught by a woman across the street buying a newspaper from the stand and dropping her change straight into her purse. Opportunity, surely, and she stopped and sat down at the bus stop, and her purse was on the ground at her feet as she struggled to unfold the paper. Mouth dry, hopeful and cautious and barely letting himself think about what he was doing, he stood up and drifted over to the other side of the street, consciously kicking at a can, looking anywhere but at the woman. He took his time and finally found himself walking behind the bus stop and the woman and, quick as a flash, he crouched down and rummaged through her purse, finally, after an age, managing to seize a handful of coins and instantly he was on his feet again, hands stuffed in his pockets, and he managed a couple of steps of casual escape before the need to run seized him and he sprinted, convinced that he'd been seen, that she was going to come after him.

He found himself a block over with almost two dollars in his pocket and a desperate desire to spend it as soon as possible. There was a shop on the corner, and the shopkeeper didn't even spare him a second glance when he walked up to the counter with Hershey bars and a bag of Fritos and a packet of raisinets and a couple of tootsie pops and a packet of Oreos and a huge bag of Cheetos and a bottle of Coke. Came to a little more than he had and, reluctantly, he put back a couple of things. Difficult choice to make but in the end he abandoned the Fritos and the Oreos and felt deprived. Still. He had a whole bunch of food and no one could prove that he hadn't come by it legitimately.

Of course, that didn't mean that no one could or would take it away from him, so he shoved as much in his pockets as he could and hid the rest under his t-shirt, his arms wrapped around his chest to keep it in place, and he hurried through the streets, certain that everyone was looking at him. Finally he found himself at the end of a street, looking at a deserted construction site. Looked like everyone had gone home for the evening. Could be a good place to be, and, determinedly, he pushed past red signs and white tape and clumsily scrambled over fences and hoardings until he was standing in the midst of rubble, looking at the remains of half deserted buildings. Perfect.

Curled in a sheltered corner, he tore open packets and wrappers, stuffed as much food into his mouth at a time as he could. Sweetness and salt and it tasted so _good. _He'd learnt his lesson from the rats the night before, and despite his first instincts, he ate until all the food was gone and for the first time in forever he was full and contented and perhaps it was only natural that the moment the last crumbs were gone, he felt his eyes closing and he curled up on the ground, his head resting comfortably on his arm and drifted rapidly towards sleep.

A moment before darkness took him, he realised that he hadn't gone back home today. He hadn't checked whether Dad was back, hadn't thought to find out if it was safe. Maybe that wasn't so bad though. After all, he wasn't hungry now. And apart from his head, he wasn't hurting at all.

He slept until dawn and only woke up a couple of times to threatening noises. But none of them were close, and none of them led to any danger, and each time he managed to drift off to sleep again, feeling relatively safe. When morning came, he left the construction site as fast as possible, knowing that if he got seen there by the workers, he'd be in trouble. Still. It really hadn't been a bad place to sleep. Worth remembering.

Feeling brighter and happier than he had previously, he spent the day relaxing and stealing. He managed to pick two pockets and felt proud. A man who kept his wallet stuffed carelessly in a shallow coat pocket and a woman whose purse was overflowing and dangling off her arm and who never even noticed Robert trotting silently alongside her. It was easy. It was easy, and he had money, and he felt safe in keeping half of it for later, and as for the rest, he went to the ice cream stand in the park and ate more chocolate ice cream than he'd have thought possible and spent the rest of the day lazing in the sunshine and watching the ducks.

It was a good day. It was a very, very good day, and it was with dread and reluctance and hesitation that he headed back home in the evening and climbed the fire escape to spy into the apartment.

Dad was home.

Dad was home, and there was no use in denying it anymore, and still for a moment, he considered just staying away. Just walking away and never coming back and spending the rest of his life stealing wallets and eating chocolate ice cream. He closed his eyes and shook his head; that was a fairytale. A children's fantasy. Instead, he headed inside and he climbed the stairs very, very slowly, dragging his feet with every step, and he stood outside the door and knocked softly, part of him hoping that they wouldn't hear, that they wouldn't answer.

Dad flung the door open and glared down at him. "Where the fuck have you been, you little shit?" he snarled and he seized Robert by the throat and dragged him inside.

The door closed behind them.

* * *

Rusty was leaning heavily against him, and Danny didn't ask what happened next. He just clung on tight and offered all the comfort and love and understanding that were in his soul.

The story had taken a few hours and they were both exhausted and heartsick and Danny could still _feel_ Rusty's fear and distress, still trapped, still caged and miserable, and he could do nothing except promise that he was still here, that he was here for Rusty, and there were still seven more hours of locked-in to go, and in the morning, in all probability, they would be found and caught and nothing would ever be the same again. And maybe the very best they could hope for was a chance to run.

Rusty looked up at him, biting his lip and the trouble was back in his eyes.

"What?" Danny asked.

"Nothing," Rusty lied immediately.

"What?" Danny said again, insisting and he was never going to let it go.

"You've never..." He shrugged and again indicated horror. "And I never want you to have to."

Danny sighed. "It wouldn't be as bad, Rus'," he pointed out. "We'd be together. And we're good at stealing now. We'd manage."

Rusty blinked and looked away. "See, that's what you'd think," he said slowly. "But thing is, sometimes it's cold and you're hurt and you can't risk making any lifts till you're feeling better, and then a couple of days go by maybe, and you're hungry as well, and you have to try, and if you get caught you're going to be hurt more, and there are people who know you've got money, and think you owe them, and there are no safe places to run to...I don't want that for you."

Danny gripped Rusty's hand tightly and wanted desperately to know, to demand, just how bad it had been the second time, just how hurt Rusty had been. "Think I want it for you?" he whispered. Rusty shook his head amid hopelessness. Danny licked his lips and thought about consequences and alternatives and different ways of losing. "Is it better to be safe or free?"

Rusty laughed slightly. "Who says we get to be either?"

"Who says we can't have both?" Danny demanded instantly and Rusty turned round quickly and stared at him and gradually the defeat in his eyes was overshone by endless determination and unbreakable spirit.

"Free. Always," Rusty said at last, and Danny smiled and brushed a kiss into Rusty's hair. They could _try, _and if they could try, there was a chance they could win.

"I'm tired, Danny," Rusty said quietly, after a long moment.

"Me too," he admitted. They honestly couldn't hope to stay awake all night. "We fall asleep, you going to be able to wake us before morning?" he asked.

Rusty nodded. "Yeah. No problem."

"Okay then," he said, and he vaguely wished there were some cushions in here, or that they'd been wearing jackets, or that there was anything to try and make the ground a little softer.

"Not exactly comfortable," Rusty commented, grimacing at the floor.

"There are worse places to sleep," Danny said and his mind was full of them.

Rusty smiled a little and held a hand against Danny's cheek.

They didn't talk about it, they just lay down, wrapped in each others arms, and they fell asleep, curled together like children.

* * *

**Still to be continued...**


	27. When we were young Part 3

**So, this was supposed to be a three part chapter...yeah. Four part chapter, anyone? Hopefully? And if anyone thinks that four chapters is a _long _time to be locked in an office, I'm inclined to agree. And the next part hopefully soonish. _Especially _as it's been sweetly pointed out to me that it's nearly six months since the last update...sigh.**

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Parts 1, 2 and 3(Chapters 25, 26 and 27) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**13. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**16. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**17. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**18. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**19. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**21. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**22. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'Outward Ripples' - three years after they leave town.**

**'Chasing Echoes' - after the events of the movie  
**

* * *

There were rats in the walls.

Danny could hear them, scuttling and scratching, getting closer and closer, and they were going to tunnel through, any minute now they were going to get through and he held Rusty a little tighter and screwed his eyes shut, and they were beneath a solid wall of scratchingsnuffling, bitingclawing, wrigglingsquirming and...

His eyes snapped open and he lay absolutely still, breathing heavily. A dream. Nightmare, rather. Damned rats; he could still feel them, climbing all over him, and automatically he reached out for Rusty. Who wasn't there.

Absently brushing at his arms, Danny sat up and looked round. "Rusty?" he called, sleepily. Wasn't possible for him to have gone far, after all; they were still trapped. "Rusty?" he called again, and Rusty was sitting at the windowsill, his back to Danny. He hadn't looked round at Danny's voice, and Danny sat up a little straighter, concern creeping in. "Rus'? What you doing?"

"Trying to get the stupid window open," Rusty said, still not looking at Danny, and Danny shivered at the carefully controlled panic in his voice.

"It's nailed shut," he pointed out. "It's not going to open."

For a long moment there was no answer and Danny got to his feet and walked over just as Rusty spoke again. "If I can just get these nails out..."

Alarmed, Danny looked over Rusty's shoulder. Rusty had been pulling out at the first nail with his fingers. There was blood smeared over the window sill. "Stop that!" he said sharply, grabbing at Rusty's hands and holding them away.

Rusty twisted his head to look up at him. "I managed to move it a little."

Danny glanced down again and the nail had come up a little. A very little. A couple of millimetres. Maybe. "Rus', even if we were both working like that there's eight nails. We'd be here till Christmas," he pointed out gently and, when Rusty still looked stubborn, he sighed. "Let me see your fingers, huh?"

Rusty looked at his hands and grimaced. "Oh."

"Yeah," Danny agreed, inspecting Rusty's fingertips carefully. Wasn't quite as bad as he'd first thought. Couple of cuts. Nothing deep. Nothing at all, really. "Don't move," he told Rusty seriously, and he glanced round the office. There was a box of tissues on Mrs Boyd's desk. That should do. He grabbed one and pressed it against Rusty's fingers. "Here," he said, and he gently dabbed the blood away, his hands on Rusty's, a silent promise that they were both here, that they were both fine.

"There's blood on the window," Rusty said, sounding guilty.

There was. And that was a problem. Because even if, somehow, and they didn't know _how, _but even if they managed to sneak out without anyone catching them, the blood would be a bit of a give-away that _someone _had been there. Not to mention...

" - fingerprints," Rusty nodded.

Yeah. As seen in all detective shows ever. Danny could see Rusty's thumbprint on the wood, clear as anything. And maybe it was ridiculous, but he could imagine the whole school being lined up, there fingers rolled in ink as Mrs Boyd stood by menacingly, until he and Rusty were singled out, pulled aside, accused.

"We'll have to clean up, that's all," he said determinedly, starting towards the window sill with a fresh tissue.

"Don'!" Rusty stopped him sharply. "Dry and you'll just smear it."

"Water's in short supply," he pointed out.

Rusty rubbed at his mouth. "There's a kettle next door. Remember?"

He didn't, actually. But he didn't doubt Rusty for a second, so he headed for the inner office, hoping that the kettle would have some water in it.

The inner office wasn't really used much. There was a desk, a few spindly chairs and a very large cupboard, plus a whole bunch of junk that the school could presumably find no other place for. They'd been in there a couple of times. For interrogations, mainly. Seemed to be used as a kind of spare office. The last time they'd been in there had been when Mr Cairney, the vice principal had been interested in knowing exactly who had started the food fight and who, for that matter, had taken the opportunity that the food fight offered to remove tomorrow's liver from the canteen. Danny remembered sitting in front of the desk, smiling attentively and keeping his gaze fixed on the break-glass fire-panel just behind Mr Cairney's left ear. Rusty had been too busy swinging his legs and staring at the junk on top of the wardrobe. The stuffed otter, in particular had caught his attention. And the collection of old trophies. And the giant globe. And that was deliberate, Danny knew, even as he'd always hate the calculation. Because as long as Mr Cairney was seeing Rusty as a bad influence, that's what he'd tell Danny's parents, if it came to it. And that would help a little. Nothing would ever help with Rusty's Dad. Thankfully, that time, it hadn't come to it. And Danny was damn well intent on making sure it went on like that.

He grabbed the kettle. There was a little water at the bottom. Probably not even enough for a cup of coffee, were he so inclined. Still, he poured every last drop into a chipped mug that frantically informed him that he _didn't _have to be insane to work here but it _would _help, and headed back through.

"First things first," he announced, dipping a tissue into the water and taking Rusty's hand back in his, cleaning the cuts gently.

"Not going to matter a whole lot if we get caught," Rusty commented, but he didn't actually object and he didn't pull his hand away.

Danny shrugged. Rusty being hurt – even just a little, even when, maybe, it shouldn't really matter – was always going to come first. And he knew that Rusty knew that. Knew that Rusty understood his need to check, to see, to do anything he could, no matter if it was only a stupid gesture. It mattered.

"Okay," he said presently. "All done."

Rusty smiled at him briefly and silently they both set to work, cleaning the blood from the window.

"I woke up," Rusty explained. "Couldn't get back to sleep. Wanted to get out."

"Yeah." Danny could see it. Could picture it. And he wished that he'd woken up when Rusty had. God, he wanted to get out of here. Wanted them to be safe, at home, in his room.

"Just figured if I could get the window open we could get out," Rusty went on.

"Still a long climb," Danny pointed out.

"Yeah." Rusty frowned down at the window sill. "You think we got it?"

"Uh huh." He couldn't see anything, anyway. Unless one of the secretaries had hidden powers – like his grandmother's apparent ability to spot a speck of dust at a hundred paces – they should be fine.

"How much water is left?" Rusty asked.

He glanced at the mug. "Half a mouthful, maybe."

"Drink half," Rusty ordered him firmly.

Danny frowned. "I'm not that thirsty," he pointed out.

Rusty looked at him and didn't actually need to _say _'Drink it anyway.' Danny sighed and conceded and drank half the water, and passed it over for Rusty to drink the rest. He thought about Rusty's certainty that the future couldn't be relied on, that food, water, shelter and God knew what else could all vanish at any moment. Stupid not to take advantage when they could. And the thing that killed Danny was the knowledge that this was born of experience. By Rusty's life, he was right.

"I wish we'd always known each other," he said quietly, sliding back down to the floor beneath the window.

Silently, Rusty sat down beside him.

"It's _better _when we're together. Always." If he'd known Rusty back then, Rusty would have had an alternative to sleeping on the street.

"Yeah..." Rusty pulled his legs up to his chest.

"And I'd have...it would've been easier." So many times it would've been easier. So many times he would have been better for having Rusty in his life. The comfort, the company, the advice, the knowledge. It would've been better.

* * *

Danny was nine and all he could think about at the start of the summer holidays was his parents' Fourth of July Fancy Dress Garden Party. He wasn't totally clear on what fancy dress had to do with independence _or_ gardens, but that didn't matter because he was absolutely convinced that the party was going to be the best thing ever.

Morning of the party and he'd rarely been this excited. He'd dressed up in the pirate costume, stared at himself in the mirror, admiring the bandana, the skull and crossbones medallion, the false moustache and he thought he looked wonderful. No question, he was going to be the best pirate at the party. He only wished that the sword wasn't wooden.

Dad had taken him to the costume hire shop last week. And normally Danny _hated _shopping, _especially _clothes shopping. But this had been different. A shop with racks and racks of impossible outfits and unlikely clothes. He'd been entranced. He'd wanted _everything _and he'd ran up and down the rows, looking at silks and furs and he'd wanted to be Superman and he'd wanted to be Scooby Doo and he'd wanted to be a fireman and Dad had been smiling and laughing, and he'd let Danny try on each and every costume that caught his eye until he'd finally settled on the pirate costume. Though Dad hadn't let him have the earring.

* * *

Rusty was smiling. "You were dressed as a pirate."

"Yes," Danny said, with simple dignity.

"A nine year old pirate," Rusty persisted.

"Yes," Danny agreed.

"With a false moustache," Rusty added.

"And an eye patch," Danny told him.

The smile became a grin. "Dashing."

"Naturally."

* * *

But he'd been so _excited _and Dad had taken him out to lunch and they'd eaten pizza and Dad had let him talk on and on about being a pirate, and he'd had visions of being the best pirate ever and imagining all the other kids being so impressed and he'd imagined a party with hordes of other kids, running around, and he'd been sure it would be wonderful.

It wasn't.

He had been told that he could invite a friend to the party, and he'd asked Josh before school broke up, but then there'd been the mackerel in Miss Coulter's handbag, and after the parent-teacher discussion, Danny suddenly wasn't going to that school anymore, and his mom and Josh's mom had a blazing row all about bad influences and degenerate delinquents, and even more suddenly Josh wasn't talking to him anymore and he certainly wasn't going to the party.

Still, Danny had heard Mom and Dad talking, and he knew that some of the other guests were bringing their kids, and he'd still had visions of being a pirate-king, leading his army against evil, injustice and petty-minded tyranny.

Except when the day came round and all the guests had arrived, there were no kids Danny's age. And he might not have minded hanging out with the older kids, the group of teenagers who took over the furthermost corner of the garden, but they made it perfectly clear that he wasn't in the least bit welcome. They didn't want some little kid following them around. And that was just fine. He didn't want to go where he wasn't wanted. Well, actually he did. That was sort of the point.

The rest of the kids were all years younger than he was, and were being kept together, under constantly changing close supervision. He didn't want to play with them, and besides, when he'd wandered closer, just out of curiosity, the current supervisor-mom had given him a warning glare. Apparently he wasn't welcome there either. Probably they thought his terrible influence would turn all their precious, darling children, into inconsiderate violent little hoodlums.

Fine by him. He didn't want to play with the babies anyway. The oldest of them would probably only be about six or seven.

* * *

Rusty was looking at him. "I would've been six or seven at the time."

Danny shrugged. "'s different." He didn't bother thinking about _how. _It just was.

* * *

Pretty clear what everyone there was thinking when they looked at him. The whole rude, inconsiderate hoodlum bit. He could see their looks, hear their comments. Was no secret that he was being taken out of another school. Was no secret that he'd been suspended for fighting. Way he was going, he wouldn't be surprised if he was being held up as an example of everything parents didn't want their children to be. 'If you don't behave, you'll turn out like Danny Ocean.' He didn't care.

He didn't care when Uncle Harold and Grandmother both grabbed him in passing and hissed that he'd better be planning on being on his best behaviour, or else there would be Consequences, and why did he never stop to think of his poor mother?

Danny thought about his poor mother, the last time he'd seen her, planning on making a formal complaint to the catering company because one of the waitresses supplied had a hairlip. And he thought about life over the last few days, when Mom and Dad had been existing in frosty silence, and the only time his poor mother had even spoken to _him _had been to rhyme off all of Dad's inadequacies. He thought about the smile she'd been wearing at breakfast, when she'd looked Dad straight in the eye and told him that any other man would have made her happier. He thought about all that and he wanted to set fire to the damn buffet and smash all the champagne bottles and scream at the guests until they all just went away.

He didn't, though. He just nodded meekly and struggled free of first Uncle Harold and then Grandmother's warning hands, and he grabbed a glass of lemonade and wandered round, being a bold and brave explorer, investigating a new and unknown people who might attack at any moment.

Bold and brave explorers didn't care when Mrs Arthur nudged Mrs Ferrell as he walked past and loudly commented what a _pity _it was that children these day were so out of control, and such a trial to their parents, and really, didn't Mrs Ferrell think that the only thing to do was to ship them off to military school at the first hint of trouble, for a good dose of old-fashioned discipline.

Brave explorers didn't care when Miss Gormley, who was about nine hundred years old and looked like a spider, fixed him with a gimlet stare of reproach and sighed and told him that some people were just born to come to a bad end, and there was no hope for little boys who were rotten to the core.

Brave explorers didn't care when they heard people talking about Miss Coulter and the mackerel, or Colin Brennan, or him answering back to Reverend White. Brave explorers didn't care about any of that. They didn't even care about being called wicked and thoughtless and heedless. They didn't even care that they were all alone and no one ever took their side. Brave explorers _liked _being alone. Because no one else was brave enough to stand up to the pressure, and to walk through the disapproving crowds of hostile, tittering natives with head held high and hand on sword. He didn't care.

But he thought that maybe even brave explorers would care about Juliet Darcey, if they ever came face to face with her.

She called Danny over while she was standing in a group of her and Mom's friends. "Daniel," she said, with a glint of a smile, reaching out her hand and pinching his cheek hard. "Aren't you looking well?"

"Yes, thank you, Mrs Darcey," he agreed politely.

"And a pirate too!" she added, looking at his costume. "How...plebian."

Danny didn't know that word. But he didn't think it was a compliment. She was dressed as a Pilgrim. "You look very nice too," he said, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Is that what they wore when you were my age?"

"Daniel!" Mom snapped as the mutters of disapproval started.

"That's perfectly alright, Barbara," Juliet said delicately. "We're all used to Daniel's little peccadilloes by now."

"I hear you're no longer attending Longwood Academy," she said, and her teeth were pearly-white and in Danny's mind they were sharp as needles. "_Such _a shame. You must be _so _disappointed, Barbara. What was it this time? Bullying? Fighting? Oh, no, it was something about terrorising a teacher, wasn't it?"

Danny's mom was standing at the edge of the group, her lips pursed unhappily. "We agreed with the school that another environment would be more suited to Daniel's well-being and academic development," Mom said stiffly.

"Oh, of course," Juliet said, smiling with sickly sincerity. "I _do _feel sorry for you, Barbara. It must be so difficult trying to manage a child like Daniel."

Danny stood with his head bowed and his fists clenched behind his back, and said nothing as the women around Juliet tutted disapprovingly and sighed sympathetically.

"I manage fine," Mom said shortly, and Danny felt his face grow hot, and he wished he wasn't such a chore.

"Of course you do," Juliet agreed doubtfully. "And I'm sure that Daniel's behaviour doesn't reflect on you in the slightest. After all, you did the best you could. Don't you think, Daniel?"

There was no way for Danny to answer that. Other than _I hate you, I hate you, __I hate you. _

"He's at an awkward age," Mom said after a second. "Children can be difficult, you know that Juliet. I remember when Annette was having all that trouble with her flute teacher."

Juliet's smile darkened noticeably. "Oh, yes. That _was _a terrible strain. I really can't imagine how you cope with all that, day in and day out. I'm so _lucky _with my Annette. But then, I think that it's the amount of time spent with children that really makes a difference to them. _Such _a pity you have to work for a living, Barbara."

"Is that why you spend so much time with your pool boy?" Mom asked with an interested little smile. "Are you trying to make a difference to him?"

There was a shocked little gasp and a fresh outbreak of tittering and Danny looked away, feeling embarrassed and wondered if anyone would notice if he sneaked away.

"Of course there are a lot of ways to enrich your child's life," Juliet went on, tossing her hair and ignoring Mom pointedly. "Annette enjoys her music lessons, and her tennis and ballet clubs. Of course, that kind of cultural experience isn't something that everyone is capable of. How many piano lessons did you manage again, Daniel?"

All eyes were on him. He stared at the floor. "Five," he answered honestly. He hadn't wanted to learn but he really had tried because he'd thought it would please Mom. Make her proud. But then he hadn't been able to practice because Mom kept saying the noise disturbed her, and his teacher, Mrs Kirkcaldy, had always been cross, saying that he was lazy and simple-minded, and before his fifth lesson he'd been desperate, just wanting to prove that he wasn't completely useless, and he'd snuck downstairs in the middle of the night to practice. Bad idea. Very bad idea. He'd woken Mom and Dad up and they'd been united in their anger and there'd been no more piano lessons and no allowance and Mom had yelled and Dad had frowned and Danny had felt about two inches tall.

"Oh, dear," Juliet said, with a high, unsympathetic laugh. "I do believe that Mrs Kirkcaldy said that was a record. Of course," she went on, ostensibly addressing Danny's mom. "I also send Annette to a special program for gifted children. They supply tutoring and enrichment experiences. You could enrol Daniel...oh!" She covered her mouth suddenly. "Oh, actually, I'm afraid that they're looking for a certain academic standard. And I suspect that Daniel's just not what they're looking for."

Danny's mom was glaring at him like she wished he was a thousand miles away and never born. "My grades are okay," he protested weakly, hopefully. "I do okay."

"Of course you do," Juliet agreed, smiling at him pityingly. "There's nothing wrong with being average, Daniel. It's not the end of the world."

"Daniel's talents lie elsewhere," Mom said stiffly.

"Of course they do," Juliet smiled daintily. "If you ever find out _where_, be sure to let me know, won't you, Barbara?"

The laughter hurt. It hurt a lot and Mom was still glaring at him, agreeing with them, and Danny felt himself flushing red. "Least I'm not a spiteful b_itch!"_ he shouted, and he was already running even as he heard the shock and the unsurprised, and Mom taking a deep breath, ready to start yelling, heading for the house, desperate to escape before anyone saw the tears.

* * *

Rusty was staring at him and Danny smiled tiredly at the layers of love and hatred in his eyes.

"It doesn't change," he said simply. "And it wasn't personal. Mom was having some argument with Juliet Darcey. I'm just a convenient weapon." Like he always had been between Mom and Dad. Just something to use.

"They're all..." Rusty waved a hand, hollow, useless rage in the gesture. "They shouldn't treat you like that."

Danny shrugged. "Still shouldn't've said what I did. Was stupid." And that was where he'd needed Rusty. Because it wouldn't have hurt as much if he'd had Rusty in his life. Wouldn't have mattered if, somewhere in the world, he'd known there was Rusty, absolutely and unalterably convinced of what the truth of Danny really was. And even though, with Rusty beside him, the anger would still be there, and be shared, Rusty wouldn't have let him make a fool of himself. Rusty was better than him at seeing the consequences coming. Anger would have cooled and hardened. He wouldn't have been a child, screaming bad words he hardly understood and that would never even touch their target, and running and hiding and crying. With Rusty there, it would have been better.

Memories and thoughts fell out of him and he spoke without thinking.

* * *

Danny was nine and he was sure his parents weren't going to let him down this time. They'd _promised._

It was the school prize-giving and Danny had actually won something. His story for English had been the best Miss Calloway had seen all year. Maybe it was even the best she'd ever seen. He _had _tried really hard with it. Miss Calloway was nice and pretty and she listened to him and she liked stories. She liked _Danny's _stories. She said he had a wonderful, vivid imagination.

And he'd taken the essay home and the letter about the prize-giving Mom had read the letter and asked if everyone in the class got a prize and Dad had smiled and said 'Well done' and had promised to read the story, and they'd promised they'd come to see him given his prize. Danny had even written it on the calendar in permanent marker, just to make sure they remembered, and the night before he talked about it often and loudly, just to remind them, just in case, until Dad told him to be quiet and Mom sent him to his room.

When he came home from school the day of the prize-giving, there was no one in the house. And that wasn't unusual, not since Mom fired Elsa and that was more than a year ago now. Normally they'd be back sometime after six, but the prize-giving wasn't until half seven. That was plenty time. He'd get something to eat and he'd get all dressed up smart and wait for them to get home.

He ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of the TV, watching 'Bonanza' and wondered why no one had ever considered that the Cartwright's made a habit of secretly killing everyone they met. Especially wives. Really, though, he was barely paying attention. Listening for the door. They had to get in soon, surely. Else they wouldn't get to the school in time.

His sandwich finished, and with no sign of Mom or Dad, he slowly walked upstairs and took a smart pair of slacks and a white shirt out of his wardrobe. He spun out the act of getting dressed about as long as humanly possible, certain that they'd walk in, any moment now.

But they didn't.

Finally he was dressed and alone, staring at himself in the mirror, his tie hanging loose round his collar. They weren't here. They weren't coming.

_(Why was he so surprised?)_

His fingers were numb and he did his best to tie the knot, trying to remember exactly what Mom did, but it wouldn't work for him and he told himself that the tears that sprang to his eyes were just for his failure. He dashed them away with the back of his hand.

Alright. Mom and Dad were busy. He knew that. They'd told him so often enough. So...maybe they'd got caught up in something else and let the details fall to the wayside. Probably they thought that he was staying in school until the prize-giving started. Probably they thought he was meeting them there. And that was easy enough. He could get himself to the school. He knew which bus it was. And he still had some money in his piggy bank. There was no problem.

The bus was crowded and Danny found himself sitting next to a man smoking a large pipe and he watched, fascinated at the whole confusing and seemingly never-ending process of lighting it. Couple of stops along, he stood up and gave his seat to a woman holding a baby who smiled and called him a gentleman and he swelled with pride.

Miss Calloway caught his arm when he walked into the hall. "Danny? Where are your parents?"

She looked worried and he smiled at her reassuringly. "They're running a little late. They'll be here," he said with confidence.

"Alright then, go take your seat," she told him, patting him on the shoulder.

He spotted his friend Harry across the room and went and sat with him and his parents. Harry was wearing a tie and his Mom was straightening it for him and Danny felt a brief stab of resentment. But then Harry's parents were smiling at him and making him welcome and asking after his parents and he told them they'd be here soon and they promised to save them seats.

He stared at the door anxiously as the hall filled up and as the principal's speech started, convinced that any moment now Mom and Dad would walk in. They didn't. But that was alright. He must have just missed them in the crowd. As soon as he got up on stage, he'd see them, standing there and applauding for him, like all the other kids' parents were doing for them.

He wanted to make them proud of him. So he sat still through the speeches and as the names were called and other kids went up and got their prizes and their handshakes. Didn't fidget. Didn't even whisper to Harry. And then it was his turn. (_Daniel Ocean, Miss Calloway's class, English composition) _and he walked up on stage, walking past where Miss Calloway was leading Tina Weir out of the hall, scanning the crown anxiously, trying to find his parents.

They weren't there. He couldn't see them. They weren't there.

But they had to be there. This wasn't just...this was a big deal. This _mattered_. He'd told them that it mattered. And it was exactly the kind of thing that he thought that they cared about.

But they weren't _there..._

"Daniel? Daniel!" The principal was laughing, and he looked up numbly and let his hand be shook and took the book he was handed. "Little bit of stage fright there, I think," the principal said into the microphone, and the hall laughed indulgently and Mom and Dad weren't _there _and they'd _promised..._

Silently he walked back to his seat, hugging the book to his chest.

"What did you get?" Harry asked, leaning over to him. Danny looked down at the book. "The Little Princess?" Harry laughed. "Sounds like a girls book to me. _I _got 'Treasure Island'."

"That's good," Danny said mechanically. He gripped the book tightly and put his head down, not looking up at the stage for the rest of the evening. All he'd wanted was for them to show up. Why was that too much to ask?

Harry's parents gave him a lift home. And, after a lot of fast talking, Danny managed to persuade Harry's mom not to come in with him.

Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room when he walked in. They looked up. And they didn't look happy. "Daniel!" Mom snapped. "Where have you been all evening?"

They didn't know. They didn't remember. They didn't care. He smiled. "Nowhere," he said quietly. "I've been nowhere."

* * *

He glanced sideways at Rusty and he knew – knew beyond all reason, beyond a shadow of doubt – that Rusty would have remembered and would have cared and would have shown up. And with a glance, Rusty silently challenged Danny to try and stop him.

He never had to work to make Rusty proud of him.

* * *

Danny was eight and it was winter and the snow was falling so heavily that they'd all been sent home early from school. And that was exciting and different and it was _snowing _and Danny was just running home to get changed and get on a pair of gloves and then he was going round to Jack and Sam's and they were going to make a real snowman. And Jack and Sam had a sledge and knew where there was a good hill. It was going to be fantastic. The best day he'd ever had. And he wished he had a sledge too. Then they could have races. Maybe, if he asked, Daddy would buy him a sledge of his very own. He'd ask tonight.

Daddy's car was in the drive when he got home. And that was good. That meant that he could ask Daddy _now._

There was a pair of woman's shoes in the hall too. Lying in the middle of the floor on their sides like they'd just been kicked off. Danny pursed his lips; Mom always complained when _he _didn't put his shoes away neatly and here she was doing the exact same thing. Not exactly fair. And he didn't recognise the shoes so they must be new, even.

Still if Mom was home then he'd have to ask Daddy really quickly before Mom had a chance to say no.

He burst into the living room. "Daddy, can I have a sledge? It's - "

He stopped dead as Daddy said a bad word and the strange woman giggled and blushed and buried her face against Daddy's shoulder.

"You never said you had a kid, Luke," she said, and her clothes were scattered all over the floor.

"Go up to your room and stay there, Danny," Daddy said shortly. "I'll be up to talk to you in a while."

Silently Danny nodded and ran out of the room and upstairs. He lay face down on his bed, Sammo hugged tight to his chest.

It was an hour or so before he heard the front door open, heard Daddy's voice in the downstairs hall, saying goodbye. It was another ten minute after that before his bedroom door opened and Daddy walked in.

He stood against the far wall awkwardly, staring at Danny like he had no idea what to say.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Danny," he said at last.

Danny sat up and shrugged and didn't let go of Sammo.

Daddy sighed. "Daddy has needs and your mother..." He trailed off and pulled at his collar and started again. "Sometimes grown-ups like to have special friends. But your mother doesn't like Daddy having friends. She wouldn't understand. So maybe we shouldn't tell her. Huh? Kiddo? What do you say? It can just be our little secret."

Danny didn't say anything. He didn't have anything to say.

"It would just make your mother upset and angry," Daddy pleaded. "I know you don't like it when your mother is angry. So it's best for both of us if we just keep quiet."

He didn't like it when Mom was angry. But he didn't like _this _either.

"Listen, Danny, if you're a good boy and don't tell your mother I'll...I'll buy you that sledge. You said you wanted one, right? I'll buy you a sledge and...and we'll go see a movie this weekend, you and me. How's that sound? I'll take you to a game. Whatever you like. If you don't tell your mother." Daddy sounded desperate and Danny hated it.

"No thanks, Dad," he said at last. "I don't want anything."

He didn't tell Mom.

Dad bought him the sledge anyway.

Danny never used it.

* * *

Rusty's hand was on his. Anything he needed. Anything he wanted.

Most of all, absolutely unconditional.

* * *

Danny was nine and he absolutely _hated _Colin Brennan. Colin was his age, in his class, and on Danny's first day at his latest school he'd been sat next to Colin and they'd got on fine. He'd found Colin easy enough to talk to and they could have been friends. Danny couldn't even say why they weren't. Except when they were walking across the playground at the end of the day, Colin had looked across at the school gate and his smile had been surprised and delighted. "Mom!" he'd shouted and he'd sprinted across the playground and into the arms of a woman wearing the exact same smile. A woman who was happy to see her son.

The next day Danny had mocked Colin mercilessly, called him a mommy's boy all day, no matter how much Colin asked him to stop, no matter how often Colin protested that his Mom had been out of town for a week and _anyone _would hug their Mom if they hadn't seen her for a week.

Didn't make a difference to Danny. He was still angry with Colin. Still hated him. "Your Mommy kiss you goodnight?" he jeered. "She tuck you up in bed and read you a bedtime story?"

After that, Colin didn't talk to him anymore. Didn't stop Danny. He found new things to harass Colin about. New ways to torment him. He'd trip him up in the corridor, steal his pencils, tear up his homework. And pretty soon Danny attracted new friends. Lewis and Tom and Paul who laughed when he hurt Colin and cheered him on and thought he was absolutely cool enough to be in their gang.

Danny knew it was wrong. Of course he did. But it made him feel better and he didn't stop. Not until the day that Colin turned on him.

"_My _Dad says that bullies are jealous cowards," he said loudly to Danny, in the middle of the corridor, in front of everyone. "_He _says that your Mom probably doesn't care about you _at all." _

Danny punched him. It was an automatic reflex. And then Colin was staring at him, tears springing to his eyes, and Danny threw himself forwards and hit him again, desperate to block out the sight and the feeling, and this time Colin hit back and soon they were rolling around the floor, hitting each other as hard as they could, surround by a chanting crowd, and Danny was winning, and then the teachers came and he was dragged away.

* * *

"Mom and Dad had me out of that school pretty quick," he said, not looking at Rusty. "Think the school was talking about expelling me."

Rusty squeezed his hand.

"It's not something I'm proud of," he added. Far from it. He was ashamed and he didn't like to think about it, and for the first time he was afraid to see himself through Rusty's eyes.

A gentle hand on his chin and his head was turned round and he was facing Rusty, looking into Rusty's eyes, and there was no sign of disgust, no sign of horror or disappointment, just understanding and forgiveness. Even if he didn't know it, Rusty loved all of him. Even the ugly parts.

"That was about six months before I met you," he commented. And if he _hadn't _met Rusty...if he hadn't found something that mattered, if he hadn't found someone who knew he mattered, then he would have carried on like that, he was sure of it. Anger and jealousy and hurt that he couldn't deal with. Rusty made him a better person.

He couldn't miss the flash of guilt that crossed Rusty's face at the thought.

"What?" he asked, frowning.

Rusty shuffled further away from him, staring down at his hands. "'s nothing."

"Right," Danny agreed, lightly sarcastic. "Of course it's nothing." He looked hard at Rusty, trying to figure it out. Something that Rusty had done or thought he had done. Something that Rusty felt guilty about.

"It's _nothing, _Danny," Rusty told him fiercely, standing up and walking towards the office door, walking away from Danny. "Leave it."

He couldn't. Something...something Rusty was keeping from him. And he'd never be able to forget now. "Rus'?"

Rusty turned his head and stared at Danny for a long time. "I lied to you," he whispered at last.

That didn't...that wasn't even... "You can't," he pointed out blankly.

Rusty shrugged, restlessly. "I didn't tell you the truth then. Back last year. When I told you..." As Danny watched, he swallowed hard and squared his shoulders, like he was preparing himself to be brave in the face of the worst. "I told you I was on the streets for a week. It was ten days."

Danny frowned. He remembered. '_A week. It wasn't that bad,_' Rusty had said, and he'd heard the lie, but he'd assumed it was all about the 'It wasn't that bad', and he'd known it _was_ that bad and for weeks afterwards he'd been imagining all the ways in which it was that bad, and why did the time make it worse?

The answer hit him suddenly and with all the force of a sledgehammer. "I was only away for a week," he whispered. "Rus', I was only gone for a week." And Rusty hadn't slept over at his either immediately before or immediately after. He stared at Rusty with uncomprehending horror. "You never said. You didn't say anything and you were...you were..."

"I couldn't tell you, Danny," Rusty said desperately. "I swear, I _couldn't._"

He fought the urge to throw up. "You _couldn't tell me?" _he echoed and the anger was roaring in his ears. "Fuck, Rusty."

"I'm _sorry," _Rusty said softly, his voice cracking a little.

Danny shook his head. "I could have done something. I _would _have done something. How could...how could you not ask me for help?"

"I'm sorry," Rusty said again and Danny couldn't cope with the sound of his voice.

"We saw each other," he pointed out, and he was shouting now, his voice echoing in the empty school. "You sat on the sofa next to me and told me that you were fine."

"You knew I was lying," Rusty said with a slight shrug.

Danny glared. "There are lies and there are _lies. _How could you..._how could you?" _

"I _had _to," Rusty said helplessly.

Danny shook his head and he couldn't understand. "Did...did you not trust me?"

"No! I mean, yes! I mean..." Rusty sighed. "I trust you, Danny. Of course I trust you."

And Rusty sounded sincere. But Danny couldn't help but wonder how_ he _was supposed to trust _Rusty_ now? If he couldn't rely on Rusty coming to him when he needed help, what were they even about? And he couldn't come up with a single reason for Rusty not to have told him that didn't mean that Rusty hadn't trusted him.

A soft noise caught his attention. He looked up sharply and Rusty was facing away from him, leaning against the door, and as Danny watched he saw Rusty's shoulders shake just a little.

Anger died down and guilt took its place. Right. This really _wasn't _the time or the place to be pissed with Rusty. Not when Rusty was feeling trapped and vulnerable. He had made Rusty cry, and that just wasn't acceptable.

Softly he walked up behind Rusty and put a hand on his shoulder, silent apology, and Rusty didn't look round, but he was wiping at his eyes and Danny was aware of the embarrassment. And if either of them should be ashamed right now...

"It's okay," he told Rusty quietly.

Rusty laughed wildly. "It's not."

"Will you tell me?" he asked. "Please?"

Rusty stared at him for a long moment. Then he started talking.

* * *

**Like I said, I'll try and get the next chapter done soon. Especially as I have been informed that it's a 'cruel and unusual' place to leave it. In the meantime, what did you think of this chapter?**


	28. When we were young Part 4

**A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. But you remember when I facetiously mentioned in 'Snippets and Drabbles' that the chapter was heading towards 40 pages? Yeah, you'll be pleased to know that didn't happen. This chapter's not 40 pages. It's 84 pages. And I have _no _idea how that happened. So, hope you enjoy. **

**A/N: For InSilva. For all the reasons.  
**

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**13. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**16. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**17. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**18. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**19. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**21. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**22. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.  
**

* * *

Rusty was ten and it was cold and he hurt. He was drifting in a hazy world of pain and exhaustion, not quite awake and not quite asleep. There was daylight streaming in the window and he clumsily pulled the blanket up over his head. He hadn't moved since Dad had left him in the living room and he'd managed to crawl into his bedroom and drag the blanket down off the bed.

He wanted Danny. Missed him already and it had only been a few hours. But he wanted to be with Danny. Wanted the way that Danny made him feel better, made him feel _safe. _Danny'd be at the airport by now. Maybe even on a plane. Maybe even all the way in Italy.

He wondered what it was like. He'd asked Danny and Danny had done his best to describe what he remembered, and then Danny's Father had been passing and he'd laughed and said that Danny should send him a postcard. They'd smiled politely and agreed that was a good idea. Danny would never even dream of doing anything of the sort.

And then Danny's Mom had pointed out that Danny had an early start in the morning and she'd offered to drive him home and it had taken a lot of fast talking to make sure that didn't happen and that he was perfectly fine catching the bus. She'd smiled triumphantly as they stood in the hallway awkwardly, Danny looking like there was a hundred things he wanted to say and, with his Mom's hand gripping his shoulder, unable to say any of them.

* * *

Danny remembered that clearly. He hadn't fully understood everything he felt back then, all he'd really known was that a week was a long time to go without Rusty, a long time to go without even knowing whether Rusty was alright. Which he hadn't been.

It was getting late, or maybe getting early. Either way, they didn't have much longer till morning came and the secretaries let them out. And the good thing was that they'd be let out of here. The bad thing was that they'd be caught and in the sort of trouble there was no coming back from.

The anger was a distant memory, buried in the knowledge that telling this story was hurting Rusty, was hurting _them. _Rusty was looking straight ahead of him, his voice steady and his eyes just a little too shiny. Danny leaned against the wall beside him, close enough to touch, silent promises.

* * *

Turned out it was just as well that Danny's Mom hadn't taken him home. He literally wasn't through the front door before Dad started screaming at him and as he fell on the concrete landing, pain blossoming through the taste of blood, he'd looked up to see Mrs Garcia coming up the stairs, her eyes firmly averted.

"Get inside," Dad hissed disgustedly, as her front door opened and shut quickly, and Rusty nodded and obeyed quickly.

It was something about the last of the bread being finished and Rusty knew it had been him – he just hadn't thought that Dad would notice or care as much as he did. And he was the one who'd _bought _the bread anyway, and when he'd stupidly tried to point that out, Dad had accused him of stealing money from him. And _that _was something he'd _never _do; he simply wasn't that dumb. But he'd had almost three dollars in change in his pocket and Dad had found it and that was that. There was money and Dad wanted it, no matter whose it was.

Dad was furious, screaming about gratitude and theft and food not being cheap, and his anger went on for such a long time, long after Rusty was reduced to being curled tight in a ball, his arms covering his face, hoping it would be over soon. He'd been doing so well; he hadn't made Dad this angry in months.

And, in the end, after Dad had gone out, he'd crawled away to his room, not even having the strength or energy to try and block off the door. Still at least he figured that the question of how he was going to occupy himself for a Dannyless week was answered. Was going to be all about lying very still and waiting till the pain went away.

That was before the next morning when Dad flung his door open and, with a disgusted sigh, hauled him to his feet. "Get _up _you lazy little fuck!"

He felt his knees start to buckle under him and he grabbed frantically at the wall for support. He was _not _going to fall. "What..." he tried to say and his voice was a hoarse whisper.

Dad glared at him. "I got stuff to do for the next week. Important stuff. I can't have you hanging around the place. Go stay with that friend of yours till Friday morning. I should be done by then."

He _couldn't. _He blinked, trying to make sense of Dad's orders. Danny wasn't here. "I _can't_..." he managed.

Dad punched him in the stomach and he doubled over immediately, his body screaming. "You're fucking going to." He grabbed Rusty's hair and pulled him upright, stared down at him. "Listen to me, you ungrateful little shit. I put a roof over your head, food on the table. I expect you to at least fucking obey me. Clear out for the next week."

And he _couldn't_. He had nowhere to go. "Please, sir," he said desperately, pathetically, pleadingly. "Whatever you're doing I'll keep out of your way. I'll just stay in my room. I won't make a sound. You'll never know I'm here, please, Dad, sir, I swear it."

His head hit against the wall hard as Dad shoved him backwards, and for a moment he saw stars. "I _said _you're going and you are. Keep whining like this and maybe I won't let you come back."

He swallowed hard and stood up straight. "Maybe I'll go tell the cops that you threw me out the house."

Next thing he knew he was on the ground and his ribs were hurting worse than ever. "It'll be the last thing you ever do," Dad snarled and Rusty had to figure he probably had a point. "And they wouldn't care anyway. You think anyone's going to care about filth like you?" He put on a high falsetto. "Oh, pity me. My Daddy's mean to me." He laughed in his normal voice. "Pathetic. They'd soon tell you that you don't get anything you don't deserve. Or are you going to tell me different? Tell me boy," he said softly. "You ever get a beating from me you didn't earn?"

There was a long silence. Possibilities swam through Rusty's mind. But in the end there was only one answer.

Mutely, he shook his head.

* * *

Rusty looked at him fiercely. "I _know _okay. Before you start, I know already. But I had to."

Danny sighed softly. "Think I'd want you to say anything that got you hurt worse?"

He held Rusty's gaze until Rusty blinked and looked away. "I should've...it was cowardly," he said at last.

Not in Danny's mind. And he knew damn well that Rusty _hadn't _believed him back then, didn't even entirely believe him now, despite his protests otherwise. "I like you alive," he said lightly.

"I always back down with him," Rusty said, quiet and remote, and Danny shivered at the thought of a day when Rusty wouldn't.

"You're not a coward, Rus'," he said finally. You're the bravest person I'll ever know. He didn't say it out loud, but that didn't matter.

Rusty smiled briefly at him. "Anyway, that's how I ended up on the streets that time. He shoved me out the door and that was that."

"How badly were you hurt?" Danny asked quietly.

Rusty shrugged. "I've been worse," he said, and that was no kind of answer at all.

* * *

He stumbled away from the building, gritting his teeth at every movement. More than..._almost _more than anything he wanted to just sit down on the stoop. Get his breath back. Stop shaking. Try and figure out just what he was going to do next. But if Dad saw him hanging around, well, that would be bad. Better to clear out as far as possible.

He kept walking, letting his feet take him wherever. Morning and the streets were full and he was drawing a lot of attention. He must look a mess. Feeling vulnerable he kept his head down and tried to look small and unimportant.

Okay. So right now he was alone and hurt and he had no money and no place to go. He had to figure out what to do about that. First thing seemed to be to get off the streets. Find someplace to lie down, preferably, he thought, as his vision blurred over and the world tilted sideways for a moment, before he fell down. Briefly – very, very briefly – he considered going to one of their other friends. But they all had parents who would have questions and the state of him right now - he could imagine the horror and the fear, the demands for explanations, and the fussing and the concern and the _touching. _He shuddered and wrapped his arms tightly round his chest until his breathing eased. Only Danny. Nothing else was safe.

And that was where he was automatically heading, he suddenly realised with dark amusement. Even though he knew Danny wasn't going to be there, he was still walking towards the only place he ever felt safe. So _stupid._

Except...except it wasn't. Not quite. Because yes, Danny wouldn't be there, and he couldn't go to Danny's place, but sometimes they weren't _going _to Danny's. The abandoned house. Their little playground. Familiar. Off the streets. And in the past three years it seemed as if no one _ever _went there apart from them. Safe, or as near as he could reasonably expect. He could lie down there for a few hours, or days, or a week, and no one would ever know. Perfect.

Which only left getting there. And that felt impossible. He had no money for the bus, of course, and in better times he might have tried sneaking on or offering the driver some sob story. Right now, walking was the only option and that was no kind of option at all.

Every step _hurt. _Every step left him gasping for breath and dizzy and desperate to just lie down on the pavement and give up. Put up or shut up, he told himself fiercely. Not like he hadn't managed this walk when he was _far _worse off, than he was right now. Really, he was just being soft. Soft and a sissy.

Unbidden, Danny's voice whispered in his head. Saying that 'soft' was a sort of ice-cream and 'sissies' were probably people who couldn't stand up after a beating, and if Rusty _insisted _on using his Dad's words for himself, then Danny had a few words for Rusty's _Dad _that he'd like him to consider.

He blinked and shook his head groggily and tried to stop smiling. Oh, that was...that was...he didn't even _know _what that was.

* * *

Slight bewilderment and amused acknowledgement flashed between them. Yeah. Danny had filled in Rusty's half of the conversation before. Had listened to Rusty's voice when Rusty was nowhere around. Often telling him when he was about to do something stupid.

"It's - " he began.

" - easier," Rusty nodded. "Better - "

" - more options," Danny considered. "Seeing - "

" - what you see," Rusty said.

"What _you _see," Danny echoed.

There was a pause and they laughed.

"And I got _plenty _of words," Danny added, soft and dark, drawing himself closer to Rusty and waiting for the rest of the story.

* * *

Must've been close to noon by the time he got to the abandoned house. By then he was long past the point of caring what the time was or even where he was. All that was left was the pain and the exhaustion and he stumbled through the door and staggered into a corner, automatically finding somewhere he wouldn't immediately be seen if someone came through the door.

Soon as his head was on the ground, he slept.

Time went by. A lot of time. Wasn't an easy sleep. Too much pain. Too much fear. He couldn't stop shaking and the floor was hard and he was lonely. Bad dreams woke him up from time to time, and the details drifted away, leaving him trembling and not remembering why. He thought he dreamt memories and he thought he dreamt of Danny and he thought he remembered running and running and Danny not being able to find him, and so much _pain._

Pain, thirst and weakness. Somewhere along the line it got darker and colder and he curled up tighter. Night. And he just wanted to fall asleep and not wake up till he felt better. A good night's sleep. Because tomorrow he was going to have to do _something._

Okay. He closed his eyes tightly and wrapped the daydream around himself like a security blanket. A silent house. Danny's room. Couple of Hershey bars and a bottle of soda lying at the foot of the bed, there for whenever he wanted them. Danny lying beside him, stroking his hair and gently talking him through the pain, smoothing it over like it had never been. Danny, here with him, smiling at him, and Rusty wanted to apologise for the worry he'd put in Danny's eyes, but he was so sleepy and the room drifted away to darkness.

The next time he woke, the daylight was bright and glaring in his eyes. His head was pounding, his throat was dry and cracked and raging and he felt like every single inch of his body was battered and bruised. But still, he was feeling _better._

Better enough to roll over, and when that didn't immediately kill him, to sit up and lean against the wall.

Okay. Really, this wasn't too bad. He wasn't sure exactly what time it was, but judging by the light, it must be late morning. Which meant he'd been here for almost twenty four hours and nothing disastrous had happened. He was safe, pretty much. Probably safer than he would be at home.

And if he could just stay here that would be fantastic. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. Even if he could last a week without food – and he did think that maybe, probably, that was possible – he needed water. Needed to deal with his thirst, needed to get himself cleaned up.

He hated being on his own like this. Oh, that felt like such weakness, but he didn't want to be on his own, and he didn't want to move, didn't want to force himself to stand and walk and think.

This wasn't the way he liked his bad days to go.

_Bad _bad days meant hiding in his room, shivering in his bed, trying not to make a noise, hoping that Dad wouldn't think of him again, ignoring the pain and waiting till it went away.

_Good _bad days meant lying in Danny's bed. Meant painkillers and antiseptic, juice being fetched for him, food when he was feeling better. Meant lying next to Danny, snuggled close, Danny's arms around him, pretending to be asleep while Danny pretended to believe him.

There'd been worse days, of course, but he didn't think of them.

This wasn't what he wanted. But it was what he had so he had to tough it out.

He pulled himself to his feet using the wall and his fingernails, bit his tongue to stifle the moan, stubbornly gritted his teeth against the weakness and the dizziness.

Finally, he walked out of the house and headed for the street. One foot in front of the other and he'd guess it would take about an hour and a half to walk back to town. Then, get himself cleaned up, drink his fill and head back here. Maybe he could find some sort of container. Take some water back.

He was lost in the effort of staying on his feet, oblivious to everything but pain and strain, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, wrenching him round, and it _hurt, _and his legs were tangled together and he fell to the ground in a heap at Juliet Darcey's feet.

Staring stupidly up at her, he scrambled backwards, fighting frantically to regain his footing.

She was gazing down at him and he could see the contempt and disgust in her eyes, and he wasn't going to be able to run if she tried to hurt him, and still he managed to get his feet under him, managed to stand.

"Don't you go thinking you can ignore me," she hissed at him. "And don't you dare pretend you didn't hear me calling you."

He hadn't. Of course he hadn't. Hadn't had the first idea. But that wasn't at all the right answer. "No, ma'am. I'm sorry, ma'am," he said instead, looking down at the ground respectfully

A hand digging into his chin and he cried out as his head was wrenched upwards and he could feel the blood tricking down his neck again. "At least have the manners to look at your betters when they're talking to you, you filthy little beast."

He just about managed to focus on her. "Sorry," he said, soft and apologetic.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded. "I know for a fact that the Ocean boy is away right now. With his parents, God help them. So you have no business in a respectable neighbourhood. Why don't you go back where you belong?"

The Ocean boy. And Rusty had to bite back the words of hate and fury and defensive defiance that sprang to his lips. Danny was amazing and she shouldn't be allowed to even mention him. "I'm just walking," he said quietly.

She snorted. "A likely story. Look at you. Who have you been fighting with? You're a vicious little thug and if I get to hear that you've been bullying any of the children round here I'll be calling the police. They'll know _exactly _what to do with the likes of you."

Yeah. He shivered. So Dad kept telling him.

She stared at him some more, her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you don't like that, do you? You've been in trouble with the police before, I'll bet. Maybe I should call them right now."

"No!" he shouted before he could help himself. Even if Danny was right and Dad was wrong or lying about the police, the _first _thing they'd do would be to take him back home. And couldn't he just imagine what Dad would do when that happened. He swallowed hard, helpless at the look of triumph on her face. "Please, Mrs Darcey. Ma'am. I haven't done anything. I'll leave right now, I promise."

She smiled sweetly. "Good. And please believe if I catch you hanging round here again I won't hesitate to call the police."

Oh, Rusty believed her alright.

* * *

Danny's jaw was clenched tight. "Juliet Darcey is a vicious, vindictive, self-righteous, snobbish _bitch," _he ground out.

Rusty grinned at him. "Don't hold back; say what you really feel."

"I don't understand _why,_" he admitted quietly. "Why couldn't she just leave you alone?" Why couldn't she just always leave them alone? They weren't anything to her.

"Guess she thinks that everyone has their place," Rusty said after a pause. "Think she thinks that just the sight of me is enough to drive down house prices and ruin the neighbourhood."

He was angry beyond reason and he already knew he could do nothing about it. Juliet Darcey was...they were just never gonna win. "She should try living in the real world. Worry about the things that matter."

Rusty shrugged. "Guess I'm always something to gossip about too."

A way of getting back at Danny's Mom. That was what Rusty didn't say. But they'd both heard the things she said.

"Besides," Rusty added. "I don't think she ever sees anything she doesn't want to."

Right. Just like Danny's parents.

He sighed and looked at Rusty. "You didn't go back there."

An awkward shrug. "Couldn't risk it."

Yeah. Rusty had found somewhere safe and Juliet Darcey had ruined it. How Danny hated her.

* * *

Nothing had really changed. He was still heading back into town. Just that he didn't know where he was going after that.

It still hurt and he was still so tired. He amused himself, for a while, contemplating how much easier it would've been if he'd got Juliet Darcey to give him the bus fare. Could've worked. If he'd told her that he'd be far away that much quicker. He thought that maybe she hated him enough to go for that.

He sighed; another risk he couldn't take. He'd be back here, after all, as soon as Danny was home. Juliet Darcey carrying tales to Danny's Mother was inevitable. But he could at least try not to add to them.

After a while, it was sorta like sleepwalking. Wasn't sure exactly what was keeping him on his feet, and all he could see was the sidewalk stretching out in front of him. It was a minor miracle that he didn't walk into anything.

He didn't know where he was going. Without thinking about it too much, he took a couple of odd turns. Idea was to make sure that he didn't bump into anyone else who knew him.

His feet were aching. His head was burning. His throat was clogged and dry. He hurt.

When he couldn't walk any more – when he really, truly couldn't walk anymore, he stumbled down next to a barbershop window and sat on the sidewalk, curled up in on himself as tight as he could, trying to be unnoticeable. Invisible.

He just had to rest for a few minutes. Just for a few minutes, and then he'd find somewhere inconspicuous. Somewhere out of the way without people constantly walking past. He could feel them staring down at him, wondering. Thankfully, none of them stopped. Okay. Just a few more minutes...

He woke up with a start when the coins clattered down on the sidewalk beside him. His head shot up painfully, looking round wildly.

There was a young girl – about his age, probably - being dragged away from him by her mother. He couldn't hear the scolding, but he could hear the girl's defence.

"But Mom, he looked sad and hungry..." She caught him looking and he saw her waving, just before he lost sight of her in the crowd.

Oh. He swallowed hard and his pride was burning. She'd thought he was a beggar. God.

Almost unwillingly, he looked down at the money. Two quarters and a dollar bill. Enough that he could buy something to eat. Some painkillers even. Enough to matter.

What, he was a charity case now?

Okay. He licked his lips. He couldn't see the girl now. And he could try to run after her, but he seriously doubted he'd manage to catch up even if he could stand without passing out. And it wasn't like he'd _asked _her for the money. He'd never ask her for money, not her and not anyone else.

But he hurt. He hurt and he was exhausted and there was no way he was going to be up to picking pockets, not for a couple of days at least, and that meant no food and no medicine, but there was money right here that was all his, if he could bear it.

He dropped his head in his hands; he was going to use the money. He was going to use the money and he hated it.

Once he managed to drag himself to his feet he found a public restroom and greedily slurped water from the tap. That should help a bit.

Then he scowled at his reflection in the mirror. Huh. No wonder Juliet Darcey had wanted him out the neighbourhood. He was a mess. With a sigh, he set to work removing the worst of the blood and the dirt from his face, hair and hands. Even when he was done though, his face was still swollen and purple. And his t-shirt was torn and filthy. Oh, he wasn't looking at all inconspicuous here. No way he was going to have a chance of blending in anywhere.

Right. It was early evening now. The shops were shutting; no chance that he'd be able to buy clothes even if he had the money. But turned out his luck was in. There was a small church in the neighbourhood, an advertisement requesting clothes donations. And someone, at least, had listened, because there was a plastic bag hanging from the door, full of kids clothes that he guessed someone had outgrew.

Looked like they might be a little big on him. But that didn't matter.

When he was sure that no-one was looking, he rooted through the bag eagerly. Red t-shirt, slightly smaller than the rest. That should do. And there was a grey jacket that was kinda thin and worn at the elbows, but it would help if it got cold at night, and not to mention it would hide the bruises on his arms. And even better, there was a baseball cap, and if he pulled that over his face and kept his head down...maybe no-one would notice anything odd at all. Perfect.

And now he was stealing from the church. Oh, he was pretty sure that was one of those things that always made Zorro mad. If he heard hoofbeats, he was running.

Slightly more confident in his ability to pass unnoticed, he wandered through the streets until he found a shop that was still open. There were two older boys in the doorway, maybe a couple of years older than Danny. They regarded him with curious hostility as he tried to squeeze past them, and one of them said something he didn't quite catch and the other laughed.

Shrugging it off, he headed into the shop and quickly picked up the cheapest painkillers he could find and a candy bar. All he really thought he was up to eating. And he still had the dollar left in his pocket for tomorrow.

Now, he thought, as he pushed his way past the two boys again, and headed back onto the streets, absently dry-swallowing a couple of pills, now all he needed to do was find somewhere safeish to spend the night.

He found the alleyway as the sun was setting. Isolated and piled high with debris, abandoned trash cans and discarded cardboard boxes. He rubbed his hand across his mouth; guess this was home for the night.

Funny. He remembered the last time he'd done this. He'd been so frightened. So convinced that he was doing something terrible, that this _made_ him something terrible. Now, three years older, he was just tired and looking to survive.

The painkillers had taken the edge off. Felt good. He managed to choke down most of the candy and curled up in a sheltered spot beside the wall, pulling the jacket tight around him, his head resting comfortably on his arm and a pile of old newspapers.

He hoped there were no rats. He didn't think he could bear it if there were rats.

He wondered where Danny was right now.

* * *

In a luxury hotel room, Danny remembered, unreasoning guilt choking him. Sleeping in a comfortable bed, eating his fill of the finest foods, safe and –

" – miserable," Rusty pointed out quietly.

Yeah. Listening to his parents fight, wondering if Rusty was okay. Lonely. Angry. Miserable. But safe. Safe, when Rusty hadn't been.

"You know that's ridiculous, right?" Rusty asked, a soft, indulgent smile playing around his lips. "It's not better for both of us to be in trouble, you know."

"Right," Danny nodded seriously. "So that's why, tomorrow, when they find us here, you'll be happy to hide and let me take all the heat."

Rusty blinked. "Oh, you are impossible. It's not the same thing at all." But he didn't sound quite convinced.

Danny reached out and gripped his hand. "We're better together," he said, and he wondered again how Rusty could have forgotten that? How Rusty could have chosen to stay alone rather than say he needed Danny's help?

Uneasily, Rusty glanced away and carried on talking.

* * *

There was someone walking towards him and he was awake in an instant. The sound of footsteps. Laughter. A bottle being kicked and broken.

For a second he was bewildered, unsure of where he was, expecting Dad and expecting pain. Then the truth came rushing back. Dad had thrown him out. He was on his own, in an alley and he had no idea who was there.

He stayed absolutely still. Good chance that they didn't know he was here. Good chance that they didn't care. Good chance that if he just kept his head down they'd go right on by. Good chance. If he was lucky.

He wasn't.

Hands reached in and pulled him out of his hiding place, pulled him to his feet. "Found you," the boy said gleefully.

There were two of them. The two boys from the shop. He blinked and kicked out at them and tried to run, but he hadn't got five feet before the taller of them swore and ran after him, grabbing him and wrenching his arms behind his back. "Got him, Joe," the boy grunted.

Joe – the little, skinny one with the knife scar across his cheek - laughed. "Trying to run away, little chicken? Fuck, we own you now. Isn't that right, Mack?"

The boy holding his arms nodded. "Whatever you say."

He kept his face indifferent as Joe slapped him across the face. Not like he wasn't used to it. "What do you want?" he asked, and he really didn't know.

Joe grinned. "These are our streets, little chicky. You want to sleep here, you gotta pay the price."

He reached into Rusty's pocket and pulled out the dollar bill.

This was stupid. This was so stupid. They were actually robbing him. He had nothing and they were actually...

"Protection money," Mack told him, twisting his arm painfully. "The Hellhounds own these streets."

"These are your streets?" he repeated softly and he made a show of looking round. "Huh. Ambitious. Bet you grew up thinking one day all this will be mine. The garbage, the rats, the shit...all of it."

Joe's face darkened. "Shut your fucking mouth, chicky," he said and for the first time he seemed to be looking at Rusty, for the first time he seemed to be taking Rusty seriously. Probably that wasn't such a good thing. Probably he should back down.

"Oh, yeah," he said mockingly. "You're a big time gangster, aren't you? Making a whole dollar. Few more nights like this one, you might actually have enough money to buy a hamburger, isn't that right?"

Joe punched him hard, in the face, in the ribs, and he twisted out of Mack's grasp, falling to the ground. He rolled with it, grabbing a handful of mud from the gutter, and then he was on his feet, grinding it into Joe's face.

"Gotta go," he told them, and he was already running.

They were chasing him. Of course they were chasing them. He could hear them yelling, could hear them swearing at him, could hear every single promise of what they were going to do to them.

They caught him, they were going to hurt him. Hurt him and beat him and maybe, just maybe, kill him.

And he was already hurt, and his ribs were aching, and it was getting so hard to breathe, and he wasn't going to be able to keep this up for long. They were gaining on him. Getting closer. He was fast, but they were so much bigger than he was and over a distance he couldn't hope to win. He could practically feel them breathing down his neck, could already imagine them grabbing him, pulling him back.

They might kill him. They might not even mean to and they might still kill him. And if he died in this stupid, stupid way, if he died over a dollar, who was going to tell Danny?

He turned sharply and there was the fence he'd passed before and he was already ducking, on his hands and knees, forcing himself through the tiny hole.

They couldn't follow. They couldn't fit through the hole and they couldn't climb the fence, and they couldn't follow him, and still he needed to keep going. He needed to be far away by the time they did find a way through.

They were still shouting somewhere behind him.

He kept going. Limping and stumbling through the streets, not daring to slow down till he saw the sun rise.

* * *

Rusty leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. "Wasn't as bad as all that, Danny."

He was in the grip of a cold, harsh fury. "Uh huh. Just a couple of guys twice your size – "

" – they weren't – " Rusty interrupted.

Danny ignored him. " – trying to beat you up for pocket change."

Rusty shrugged and focused on his cigarette for a few moment. "It's not like... people with nothing are...they were desperate. And assholes."

"Don't you try and tell me that it didn't bother you," Danny said with soft anger. "Don't you try and tell me you weren't scared."

There was a second when he thought that Rusty was going to try and deny it. For a second Rusty's jaw was set and his eyes were determined. Then he looked up at Danny and sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I was scared."

"You should have told me," he said, and it _hurt _that Rusty hadn't. Not like he thought that Rusty had been safe after that. They could have done something.

"That's what it's like, Danny," Rusty said quietly. "That's what it would be like. If we get caught tomorrow. If we run. That's what it's going to be."

He could imagine it. "Let's not get caught," he suggested.

Rusty smiled. "Yeah."

* * *

Okay. He took a deep, shuddering breath and, absently swallowed another couple of painkillers. Could only hope they'd take the edge off soon; his chest was burning. But he had to figure he was probably safe now. There was no way – _surely _no way – they could still be looking for him.

So, yeah, he'd made them mad but from their point of view he was just a little kid who'd only had a dollar in his pocket. There were an almost infinite number of better targets than him. No way they kept looking for him all night, and that made his wild and desperate flight slightly stupid. In the cold light of day.

At some point he'd found his way back to familiar streets. Mabel's place was just a couple of blocks down from here. And she'd be opening soon. Putting on pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon and waffles dripping with syrup.

God, he was hungry.

Licking his lips, he tried to look on the bright side. Least if he was hungry it probably meant he was healing up nicely. Probably him being hungry was a good sign. At least it would be if there was any prospect of food anytime soon.

Okay. Really, he needed to grab a few hours sleep while the streets were still empty. Then he needed to find a place he could hide out till dark.

And then, when there was no one to see and no one to judge him, then maybe he'd see about finding some food.

He found a little nook behind the bank that seemed mostly safe enough. Little too close to the back door and in full view of the parking lot, but the bank was still closed and there was no one around. Not to mention that it looked like there was plenty room to run, if he had to. Should be fine for a couple of hours.

He curled up, pulled the jacket tight around him and slept.

He was woken by the sound of cars a couple of hours later. Parking lot was filling up, and as he raised his head and glanced round him with sleepy urgency, he saw a few people looking his way. Even at a distance he could see, or imagine he could see, the frowns of concern and disapproval. Right. Time to move.

Jamming the hat back down over his face, he hurried off.

Thirsty again, he found his way to the public toilets opposite the library, absently and automatically, ducking his head and avoiding the cops on their daily run to the doughnut shop, and greedily scooped up handfuls of water. There. Hopefully that would fill his stomach up a bit. He was still so _hungry._

Looking in the mirror, he grimaced. Bruises were fading a bit but they were still noticeable.

Sometimes he couldn't help but think that Dad was so _stupid. _He didn't want anyone to know that he hit Rusty. Right from when Rusty was a little kid he'd made sure that Rusty knew to lie, but then he went and hit Rusty where everyone could see. How difficult would it be to keep his fists away from Rusty's face?

"He's a stupid bastard," he muttered to himself, taking savage glee in the pronouncement and _almost _managing to resist the fearful urge to look around and make sure that the stupid bastard was nowhere in earshot.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Danny suggested with quiet agony that there were more reasons than that for Rusty's father to be a bastard. More reasons why Rusty's father should keep his fists away. Rusty ignored him.

There was a smear of dirt down the right hand side of his neck. Must've come from the alley. With a scowl he wiped it away and scrubbed the rest of his skin for good measure.

He hated feeling dirty. Hated _being _dirty. And he was pretty definite it was only going to get worse. Four more days till he could go back home. There at least he'd be able to take a shower and get a clean change of clothes. And then another day and Danny would be home and everything would be normal _(safe) _again.

He leaned heavily on the sink, met his eyes in the mirror, ignored his stomach growling. Five days. That wasn't so long to wait. He'd be fine. He _was _fine.

Now all he had to do was find a place to hide up for the rest of the day.

He walked out of the restroom and paused, looking at the library across the way. Looked like it was just opening. He'd never actually been in, but it was big. Free. Open to kids. And that girl Matilda in the book Danny had read to him last year had spent all her time in there when she was trying to get away from _her_ parents. And no one had ever bothered her.

* * *

"Not sure that a kids' story is a good thing to base your decisions on," Danny said dryly. If he was honest, he didn't like thinking about that book. Didn't like remembering Rusty in so much pain and him left feeling like his very best might not be good enough.

Rusty shrugged. "Guess it's possible I have a soft spot for public libraries."

Danny grinned. "Suppose I should be glad it wasn't 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'."

"No chance," Rusty said immediately, shuddering. "Oompa Loompas scare me. I don't care how many rivers of chocolate there are, I'm not braving those little orange things."

Trying not to smile, Danny remembered sitting through the movie, not so long after they'd first met. Rusty, all of seven, and not enjoying himself one bit. "You'd do it for Gene Wilder," he pointed out.

"Yeah," Rusty said, after a second, determination in his voice. "Guess I would at that." If you were there, he added silently.

Danny smiled and squeezed his hand tightly, the way he had in a movie theatre a very long time ago, when the Oompa Loompas were telling them exactly what would happen to boys who ate sweets. "Think I'd let you face Oompa Loompas by yourself?"

* * *

No one paid him any attention as he walked into the library, his head down and his hat pulled firmly over his face.

Trick was to never look lost, never hesitate, never meet anyone's eye. And try to stick to places where you could blend in.

That in mind, he walked through the archway into the children's section.

Okay. There were already people here. Mostly younger kids, rummaging through the picture books. Couple of girls his age sitting at a table, each holding a book with a picture of a pony on it. He didn't know them. Thankfully.

Seemed okay. Seemed like he should be able to stay here for the rest of the day no problems.

He turned his attention to the book shelves, looking for something to do and something to hide behind, and by a strange coincidence he found himself staring at the Roald Dahl section.

One book in particular caught his attention. Oh. Well. He'd never argue with that.

With a smile he couldn't stop, he curled up on a beanbag chair in the corner and started to read 'Danny, Champion of the World.'

* * *

Danny cleared his throat, suddenly finding it difficult to speak. "I've...never read it."

Rusty had no trouble meeting his eyes. "It's good. It's about a boy who sees more than everyone else. And he figures out a way to steal all the bad guy's pheasants. Something that had never been done before. Never even been tried. Someone no one else ever even dreamed of."

Danny thought he could spend the rest of his life trying to live up to the look in Rusty's eyes.

* * *

He stayed in the library until it closed, as people came and went around him. And sometimes he was reading his book and sometimes he was dozing lightly. Either way it all felt safe enough to him. And no one bothered him, right up until the moment when the librarian cleared her throat, her hand hovering above the light switch. "We're closing now, dear, if you want to put your book away."

He looked up at her and smiled and nodded, carefully – stiffly – getting to his feet and replacing the book on the shelf. He still had a couple of chapters to go.

"Have you been here all day, dear?" she asked curiously, while she fiddled absent-mindedly with her wooden beads, and he nodded again, quietly going to slip past her. He was pretty sure that there weren't any rules about how long you could stay in the library. And certainly she made no move to stop him as he headed out the front door, just calling out a cheery good night.

Somehow, he doubted it would be. His legs felt weak and shaky. Still hurt a little to breathe and his feet were aching. He bit his lip; he'd been hoping that a day spent in the comfort and the safety...but he wouldn't trust himself to make any lifts right now. His hands would shake and he'd get caught and running wasn't an inviting option. Same went for shoplifting, and besides, if he went in a shop with the hat over his face they'd be watching him like hawks, and if he left the hat _off..._it'd be vultures.

But he needed to eat. He really, truly, honest-to-God _painfully _needed to eat.

For a moment he thought of the little girl and her pocket money and he pictured himself sitting down in a street corner, the hat at his feet, begging for change.

He looked pathetic enough. Probably he'd be able to scrape together enough to get something to eat pretty quickly. Maybe even something hot. He gritted his teeth; couldn't do it. And wasn't that just ridiculous? He'd happily steal money out of people's pockets but he wouldn't take a handout.

He sighed and scrubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Well, that only left one alternative. And he felt kinda sick just thinking about it.

There were still too many people hanging around though. If he was going to go picking through garbage he didn't want to risk anyone seeing him.

Best to find where he was going to spend the night first. He headed away from the library and the middle of town, going towards where the streets were quieter. He wasn't going to risk going back to the alley from last night and the nook by the bank felt too exposed.

An alley behind a movie theatre. Dark and there was water dripping down the wall. He gazed around it unhappily; not exactly welcoming. There were a few large garbage cans, a few battered crates, a van on bricks. Cover. Places to hide. And the ground was pretty clear of garbage and there was a bricked up doorway that looked like it should hide him from casual glances pretty well. It would do.

It was getting late. Still light though; summer evenings lasted a while. He sat in the doorway and tried not to think about food.

He must have dozed off because he woke up with a start, hearing something moving towards him.

He froze, picking out the best way to run. If he dodged right, round behind the van, doubled back maybe...

The noise wasn't human. Soft running footsteps, a growling noise, and he was thinking of a story Danny had once told him about werewolves, and he stood up at the exact same moment that the cat launched itself off the roof of the van and landed neatly on his chest.

He stared at it for a moment. Grey, huge, and still somehow scrawny. "You are not a wolf," he told it severely.

It purred at him.

The cat butted her head against his chest and he petted her absently.

"You like this, don't you?" he commented. "You remind me of Danny."

Not that Danny was a cat, he added hastily and mentally. Or really anything like. Huh. He surely must be a little lightheaded to have thought that.

Just that Danny liked touching. Hugging. And Rusty figured that some of that was about the way Danny's parents treated him. Oh, they might not be violent like _his _parents, but affection was thin on the ground. Not what he thought a family should be and it would always make him angry to think about. And of course, more of it was about him and his issues. They'd never really discussed it, as such, but Danny had always known he didn't like to be touched. And even though Danny had never been included with the rest of the world, just the fact of it still hurt Danny. Danny wanted him comfortable and happy and Danny thought he needed this.

And so Danny liked touching him. Casual, everyday, practical, soothing, reassuring, comforting and wonderful. And yeah, he liked it too. Danny made him happy.

Trouble was, he couldn't bring himself to offer the same effortless affection back. A hug, touching Danny's hand, leaning against Danny's shoulder – those were completely beyond him.

Oh, he wanted to sometimes. And it wasn't like he thought Danny would mind. Quite the opposite in fact; Danny would be overjoyed if Rusty actually reached out to him. And there had been times when Danny had been the one hurting and upset, and Rusty had still been incapable of being the best friend Danny deserved. And the only bright side there was that Danny understood, Danny always understood, and in those times Danny had been more than capable of grabbing him in a hug that Rusty was equally capable of returning. And he knew that had helped. Just that he wished he could be the first to offer.

Thing was, every time he tried, every time he so much as thought about it, he could hear Dad and Mom's voices in the back of his head.

"_You're nothing but a disgusting little wild animal."_

"_Get _away _from me you evil beast!"_

"_Look at you. No one could ever want you."_

"_You're so stupid!"_

"_You're worthless."_

"_You're less than nothing and you always will be."_

"_No one's ever going to love you."_

He tried not to listen, but they were so loud and so constant.

He didn't want to believe them and he tried to listen when Danny told him that they were wrong, that they'd always been wrong, and that Rusty never deserved to get hit.

But it was difficult. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't touch Danny.

He hugged the cat tightly and listened to it purr. This he could do.

* * *

Nearly two years later, Rusty turned round and hugged Danny tightly.

"Why?" Danny managed to ask.

"Doesn't need to be a reason," Rusty answered with a far-off smile.

* * *

He and Wolfy stayed sitting in the doorway until it got dark, apparently both content with each other's company. Least Rusty was. It was nice to have someone there, being warm and affectionate towards him. Even if that someone was just a cat. Something comforting about it. And it took his mind off the ache of the hunger.

And then, sunset and darkness and the time when he could rely upon being hidden.

"Gonna go find some food, Wolfy" Rusty told the cat quietly. "What do you think, movie theatre, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. He might be talking to the cat, but he wasn't expecting it to answer. _That _would be crazy.

* * *

"You called the cat Wolfy?" Danny asked, eyebrows raised.

Rusty shrugged and stared awkwardly at his hands. "She wasn't a wolf."

Danny frowned, and the easy joke about Rusty's skill at naming things died on his lips. For once, he didn't quite know what to say, and Rusty kept talking without looking at him.

* * *

Movie theatre. People always ate a lot in movie theatres. And oftentimes they didn't actually finish it. The litter bin just outside, there was bound to be stuff that the people who'd just come out that evening had dumped. Stuff that would still be fresh. Popcorn if nothing else.

He was right; the bin at the exit to the theatre was piled high with debris. There was even a few abandoned cartons of popcorn stacked up around the bottom of the bin, and a couple of them at least had some popcorn clinging to the bottom.

He was so, so hungry. And this still seemed disgusting to him. Practical, he reminded himself. This was no time to be squeamish. He was starving, he was hurting, and if he didn't eat something soon he'd be in real trouble. Jeannie Fairley had skipped breakfast and lunch every day for a week because she'd wanted to lose weight for her wedding, and she'd wound up fainting in the shop on the corner. That happened to him, he'd be vulnerable. Anything could happen. And even if the only thing that _did _happen was what happened to Jeannie, and someone called an ambulance, if they took a good look at his face even, let alone if they removed his shirt, there'd be questions, and they'd look at him and he could already feel the shame burning through him at the thought.

No. It was time to be practical. Time to survive.

Besides. People threw things away and...Mrs Miller had said in school about all the waste in the world. Perfectly good food thrown away and there are children starving in Africa. This was just him doing something about that. It was a good thing.

Trying not to think about what he was doing, he took all the cartons of popcorn he could see near the top of the bin and poured the contents into one of the ones that had been on the ground. Wound up being almost a quarter full, and swimming with greasy butter. And he also found a bag of potato chips that had a few crushed bits at the bottom, and a little bit of stale hotdog bun. It would do.

He took it back to the alley and sat in the doorway, Wolfy next to him, and carefully munched his way through cold, soggy popcorn, his face and mind blank. Every second handful he held out to Wolfy, and even if she wouldn't actually eat it, she gratefully licked the butter off. Was always good to share.

The bun and the potato chips he ate himself, though he opened the packet up so that Wolfy could lick up the salt.

When she was done, she leapt up onto his lap, pointedly stretching and curling up tightly.

"Time to sleep you reckon then?" he asked amused. Unsurprisingly, the cat didn't say anything. He yawned. "Yeah. Yeah, reckon you're right. G'night, Wolfy. You'll keep the rats away, won't you."

Careful to disturb the cat as little as possible, he leaned over sideways and dropped his head down onto his arm and slept.

When he woke up the sun was shining in his eyes. He must've slept for a long time. Not that he didn't think he'd needed it. And he was certainly feeling better this morning. The pain had retreated to a sort of dull ache; infinitely bearable and manageable. He was hungry again, and that wasn't completely surprising. What he'd eaten last night hadn't exactly filled him up. Still. He felt good enough that he'd be prepared to risk lifting someone's wallet.

Gently, he dislodged Wolfy from his lap. The cat mewed a somewhat sleepy protest, but otherwise didn't seem to react in any way. "You a cat or a cushion?" he muttered.

Stretching and pulling the cap down over his face, he wandered out the alley ready to start the day. Not that he'd really thought ahead, but he figured he'd go back to the library again. Seemed a good place to hide out in the daytime.

It was when he was on his way there that he saw the restaurant. Barely a block from the alley with a large outdoor seating area and only one customer in sight. And even as he watched, the one customer moodily pushed aside his paper, dropped a few coins on the table and left, leaving behind a practically-untouched glass of orange juice and half a cream-cheese-and-smoked-salmon bagel.

Huh. Opportunity. Moving quickly, he vaulted the little wall and was at the man's table, gulping down the juice in two quick swallows, stuffing the bagel in his pocket, and running before anyone had even seen him. The money he left where it was. Food was one thing; that'd be thrown out. The money was someone's hard earned tip and he wasn't stealing that.

He hurried back to the alley with the bagel and peeled the salmon out of the bagel. Wolfy looked up with interest and accepted the morsel with alacrity.

"How exactly did you get on without me?" he asked the cat, his mouth full of the rest of the bagel. He looked down, and actually, he could see most of Wolfy's ribs. He sighed. "Guess you didn't." He didn't think that Wolfy had spent her life on the streets. She didn't seem to have any idea how to survive, and she was obviously starved for affection. "Your family chucked you out, didn't they?" He rubbed Wolfy behind the ears and listened to her purr. "They shouldn't have done that. Bastards. Bet they have no idea what they were missing."

Wolfy rubbed her head against his hand affectionately.

He sighed again. "I need to go." He stole a glance sideways and there were people walking by the top of the alley. "If I stay here, someone'll notice me. It's okay for you, no one looks twice at cats. Sometimes people stare at me." He shivered and then, with an effort, grinned. "Besides, the way I'm going, if I stay here for the day I'm gonna wind up thinking that Timmy's fallen down the well or something."

He left Wolfy alone in the alley and wandered back round to the library, avoiding the restaurant, just in case.

More confident than he had been yesterday, he made to walk straight through the entrance to the children's section and found himself almost walking into a tweed skirt and an ugly floral blouse.

He looked up slowly at the woman in front of him. She didn't look happy to see him. "Where do you think you're going, young man?" she demanded.

Suddenly, he was reminded of Juliet Darcey, and he couldn't even figure out what he'd done wrong. It was a public library. She couldn't just throw him out for being...for being whatever she saw he was. "I'm just going to read a book," he explained quietly. And absolutely not apologetically.

She snorted. "Not like that, you're not." She bent down quickly, grabbing his hands.

He tensed. Not winced, not flinched. Just tensed, hoping she didn't notice and hoping she didn't hurt him.

"Look at these!" she announced triumphantly. "Your hands are filthy." Her voice was loud and he could feel people staring at him.

He could feel his cheeks going red. The tips of his ears burning. Absolute humiliation. "I'm sorry," he said steadily. "I'll go and wash them."

She tutted loudly. "There's a restroom through in the back. See that you do." But she hadn't let go of him and she _wasn't _just talking to him, she was making sure that everyone nearby could hear this little conversation. "We can't let you handle the books like that, now, can we? It's not fair to the other readers if they have to read books that have your dirty fingerprints all over them, is it?"

She was smiling at him condescendingly. Waiting for the answer. He kept his face blank and his eyes vacant. "No," he agreed, and he supposed it really wasn't. He should've washed up before he went anywhere near regular people. Just that it hurt to be reminded of that.

(_First days at school and frowns and disgusted sniffs and letters home and Mom screaming and the back of Dad's hand, and later and everyday for months, he'd stood in the shower under a stream of cold water and scrubbed until he thought his skin would bleed. He didn't want to be dirty.)_

With the ease of long practice he buried the memories and continued to listen, polite and attentive.

"I don't know, children today..." she looked at him sharply before releasing his hands and he resisted the urge to just run with an effort. "Mind that you give your face a good scrub too. _I _don't know. If I was your mother I'd be ashamed to let you out looking like that."

He couldn't resist. He honestly couldn't. He knew the way adults who didn't know him reacted. "I don't have a mother," he told her, after the slightest pause, the faintest of quivers in his voice. His head was bowed, so he had to imagine the look on her face.

He didn't have to imagine the flustered, guilty tone she suddenly adopted. "Oh. Well. Oh. Go and wash up, can't you?"

Obediently, smiling slightly inside, he went and washed up as best he could, not quite meeting his eyes in the mirror.

When he walked back through the entranceway, the tweed librarian was busying herself, seemingly doing anything that didn't involve looking at him. And that suited him just fine.

He went through to the children's section, found the same beanbag chair and 'Danny, Champion of the World' and he settled in for the day.

By about lunchtime he'd finished the book and the librarian with the beads appeared at his shoulder, just as he was replacing it on the shelf.

"You finished that one?" she asked cheerfully.

Startled, he eyed her cautiously and nodded. "Yeah."

"Roald Dahl, huh?" She smiled and it was genuine enough that he relaxed, certain that she was no immediate threat. "He's one of my favourites. My son's too. He's about your age. Did you enjoy the book?"

"Yes," he said with a little more enthusiasm. "It reminded me of a friend of mine."

"The boy in the book?" She raised an eyebrow. "Your friend must be quite a character."

He smiled, an image of Danny shining in his mind. "You have no idea."

Her smile was warm. "Have you read this one?" She pulled out a book and held it up to him. 'Fantastic Mr Fox' "I think you'd like it."

"Thank you," he said politely, taking it out of her hands. "I'll give it a try."

She clapped him on the shoulder and walked away. With a slight frown he gazed after her, then he shrugged and settled down to read the new book. It was pretty good.

There were still people in the street when the library closed. And that was good. Because he felt empty inside, and food meant money. Though maybe there were a few too many people. Too much chance that he'd be seen.

He picked his mark. A heavyset man carrying a briefcase and the Wall Street Journal. He fell in step a dozen feet or so behind and followed him away from the more crowded streets.

Funny. The first time he'd ever done this had been the last time he'd been on the streets. He'd gotten a lot better since then.

The man was wearing a long coat. Bulge in the pocket. Probably a wallet. And the man looked well off. Meant he wouldn't miss it, and that always helped. Not to mention he'd have something worth taking.

He sped up, jogging like a kid heading home, and he passed the man on the corner, brushing against him, muttering an apology, running on past, ducking into a side street.

He slowed down, pulling the wallet out of his jacket, flicking it open, pulling the cash out.

Wait. That couldn't be right.

He found himself staring down at three, crisp fifty dollar bills.

That couldn't be right. That was too much. That was...

That was when he saw Joe and Mack in the street in front of him, staring at the money in his hand.

In an instant, without even thinking about it, he turned on his heel and ran, dropping the wallet and stuffing the money into his jacket.

They caught him. Of course they caught him. They were so much older, so much taller, and this time he didn't have any where to run to, anywhere to hide.

Mack slammed him hard against the wall and he gasped as Joe swung him round, leaning in close to his face, his arm pressed against Rusty's throat. "Well, well, little chicky. We've found you at last."

"Didn't know you'd been looking," Rusty managed to gasp. "You should've left a message with my secretary."

"You owe us money, chicky," Joe said almost gently. "Two days worth. We couldn't find you last night."

"I was washing my hair," Rusty explained.

"Uh huh," Joe was laughing. "We just saw you stealing. You're a thief and what you steal is ours. That's how this works."

Mack reached into Rusty's jacket and pulled out the money. "Fuck, Joe, look at this."

Joe looked over and whistled sharply. "Fuck's sake." He grabbed Rusty by the chin and pulled his head round. "Little chicky's got talented fingers." Rusty sunk his teeth into Joe's hand. "And a vicious mouth," Joe added, backhanding Rusty savagely.

He would have fallen if Mack wasn't holding him up and he tasted blood. Joe didn't hit as hard as Dad, not nearly, but maybe as hard as Mom did, when she did. His head was ringing. The money had disappeared now and Joe and Mack were laughing.

They hit him a few more times. Fists against his stomach and his ribs and he bit into his lip and didn't cry out.

Joe grabbed his hair again, pulling him up against the wall. "We'll see you tomorrow, okay, chicky? And we'll want our money."

And they were gone.

Rusty leaned against the wall for a long moment, his arms wrapped around his body.

Then, when he was absolutely sure they were gone, he stood up straight and limped back to the alley behind the cinema.

The cat was lying on top of the van again. She purred happily when she saw him. Leapt down into his arms.

It hurt a little when he pulled her against his chest. Only a little.

"Hey, Wolfy," he said softly. "No food, tonight, I'm afraid."

Painfully he sat down on the doorstep, pulling the cat close to him.

He hoped she wouldn't leave.

He didn't want to be alone.

"I wish Danny was here," he whispered guiltily, just before he fell asleep. If the cat was the only one who heard it, it didn't count.

He slept uneasily and dreamt of Danny.

In his mind, Danny was hurt and alone and far away, and Rusty couldn't get to him, and somehow he could see Danny wandering through unfamiliar streets, starving and frightened, running from something – someone – he couldn't see. And Danny was screaming his name, pleading for him, begging for him, and no matter how much Rusty shouted, he couldn't make himself heard, and he had to watch as they grabbed Danny from behind, as they beat him and hurt him, and he couldn't even see who was doing it, and sometimes it looked like Joe and Mack and sometimes it looked like his Dad and sometimes it looked like Danny's parents, and all he could see was the terror and hopeless defeat in Danny's eyes, and he wanted this to stop, he wanted to make this stop, Danny, Danny...

"Danny!"

He woke up with a start, aching and afraid and alone.

Danny wasn't here. Danny was far away but Danny was _safe._ He had to believe that.

Wolfy had run off, probably when he had yelled. She was watching him cautiously from the top of the van.

He smiled at her effortfully, his arms wrapped unconsciously around his chest. He felt like crying. God, he hated that. There was nothing to cry about because nothing could be helped.

He sniffed loudly and rubbed his hand against his mouth. Okay. So what was he going to do today? Joe and Mack had found him, but he still couldn't really believe that they'd been looking. Not seriously. There was no _point _to it. And that probably meant that as long as he didn't move around too much he'd be safe.

Of course, they hadn't been looking for him before they'd stolen a hundred and fifty dollars off him. A hundred and fifty dollars could probably make a lot of things worth it.

"What am I gonna do?" he asked, looking up at Wolfy. She ignored him, licking her paws. He sighed. Back to the library. If he just stayed either in the library or the alley then Joe and Mack might never see him again. Might.

He stretched uncomfortably, absently noticing the way his ribs protested. They'd only just healed up too. Need to be careful the next few days. Didn't want to make it any worse. And moving too much – breathing too much – would hurt.

It was barely getting light. He'd woken up too early, really. He settled down in the doorway, pulling the jacket round him. Seemed a little colder. Unless it was just him; he was hurting and hungry, after all. Might just be him. With an effort, he pushed it all to the back of his mind and concentrated on imagining how it would be when Danny was home. Sitting in the diner, Mabel bringing them hot chocolate, asking them about their plans for the day, Danny looking across the table at him, his eyes and smile full of affection.

He closed his eyes and played through conversations in his head. After a while, Wolfy joined him. He rubbed her ears and whispered old stories to her.

* * *

Anger, incoherence and misery. Danny could hardly stand the absolute loneliness in Rusty's voice. The memory of pain and fear and isolation, all so close to the surface.

In Rusty's mind and memory stories _lived. _

Danny wanted to make everything better.

* * *

He'd learnt his lesson; he made sure to go wash up as thoroughly as possible before he even thought of heading into the library. There was dried blood around his mouth where his lip had bled. He'd barely even noticed.

He wished he could go a month without seeing his own blood. Just a month. That wasn't so much to ask, was it?

Oh, he was getting perilously close to self-pity here. And that was never acceptable.

This time, he got into the library without anyone stopping him, and the morning passed quickly. That might've been because he wasn't so much reading as dozing with a book in front of him.

Of course, he was fully awake when he realised he was being watched. He glanced round the room as casually as possible and saw a group of boys his age, eying him.

He knew a couple of them slightly. Larry and Clyde. They went to his school. Far as he knew, he hadn't done anything to upset them, and in fact as he watched the group he realised that wasn't what this was about at all. They weren't threatening, they were curious.

He forced himself to smile politely as Larry came over. "Hi, Rusty. Where's Danny?"

The question didn't surprise him. "He's on holiday," he explained simply. "He gets back in a coupla days."

"Oh." Larry was looking frighteningly sympathetic. "Listen, a bunch of us were going down to the park. There's a summer gala thing on today. Kid's stuff, mostly, but it should be fun. There's going to be a bouncy castle and a yo-yo display and face painting. Things like that."

"No thank you," he said politely, and he didn't even have to think about it. For one thing, he was too tired and too sore to want to do much moving about. For another...kids his age were such _children_. And sometimes they made him feel old and tired.

"Okay," Larry said with a shrug. "If you change your mind, we'll maybe see you there."

"Thanks," he said with a smile and a nod and he ignored the vague, nagging feeling that the offer had only been made out of pity. Wasn't that, or at least wasn't _just _that. He might not spend too much time outside of school with the kids in his class, but all the ones he liked liked him just fine. They all knew he hung around with the older kids – not just Danny – and that and, well, other things, apparently gave him something of an air of mystery. Which was pretty funny.

He watched them leave and turned his attention back to his book. Which meant that when the librarian cleared her throat beside him, he jumped.

Oh, he hadn't heard her coming. How did _that _happen? He'd let himself feel safe here; shouldn't be that careless.

It was the one with the wooden beads, she was playing with them as she looked down at him anxiously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

He shrugged and smiled politely. "'s fine."

"You didn't want to go with the other boys?" she asked quietly.

"No ma'am," he agreed, shaking his head.

She looked at him sympathetically. "It's difficult not fitting in, isn't it?"

Huh. That had never really been his problem. In many ways he _didn't _fit in and never would, but it didn't really bother him and whenever he chose to make the effort he could fit in just about anywhere.

But it was always safer to agree. Always safer to play into peoples preperceptions. "Yeah," he said, soft and hesitant, looking up at her shyly.

"You've been here for a couple of days now," she commented.

"I like to read," he explained, when it became apparent that she was waiting for an answer.

"Me too," she agreed, smiling. "Though in the summer it always seems such a shame to be cooped up inside all day."

Oh. He thought he knew what she was getting at. "I get plenty of fresh air and exercise," he assured her truthfully. "Dad makes sure of that."

She smiled slightly. "Into sports, is he? My husband drags our son out to Little League every Saturday, whether he wants to go or not."

"Dad likes running," Rusty said calmly. "And he's into boxing too, but he doesn't let me."

"He probably thinks you're too young," she suggested. "Maybe when you're a few years older."

Yeah. Maybe when he was a few years older.

"I'm setting up the display for our local history month," she told him after a second. "Would you like to help?"

He considered for a second. Really, he had to admit, what he'd _like _was to just sit still and sleep. But there was something in her eyes, in her voice. He was frightened she suspected him of something. He didn't even know _what _but he didn't want to get in trouble. Far better to smile and keep her happy. Besides, he kinda liked her. She had good taste in stories.

"Okay," he agreed at last.

She smiled.

It was all easy enough. Just lifting some small tables to the front entrance, helping her arrange a tablecloth over them, picking out some books that seemed relevant.

She chatted to him all the while, asking questions that sounded innocent and were anything but. About school, about what he liked, who his friends were. About home and Dad and what they did and what they said. She didn't ask about Mom. Pretty clear she'd been talking to the other librarian from before, the one in the tweed. He was so _stupid._ One little truth and now he was fielding questions from someone who...what?

Someone who thought he needed help? Thought he was a runaway? Thought he was so awful even his family couldn't stand him? He wasn't sure. He just knew that he didn't want to answer her questions. He never wanted to answer questions. His secrets were his to keep.

And so he danced around specifics and span hard lies and easy truths and she still looked at him like he was a little lost kitten.

He helped her carry the shop window dummy out of a store room that was a veritable Aladdin's cave of junk; helped her unhook the basement from a spinning wheel; helped her find the dress that had been thrown haphazardly over an old tallboy. All the time he was smiling. Yes, he and Dad got on just fine. Yes, they ate together most nights – Dad wasn't a great cook but he was getting better. Yes, they were going on holiday this year – down to see Uncle Alf in Orlando, and Dad said if he was _very _good they might just go to Disney Land. Yes, Dad had been proud of his last report card – he'd hugged him and everything, it had been so embarrassing.

He painted a picture of a family life he'd never known. Would never know.

Eventually, they were done with the display and with the questions.

"Thank you so much, Henry," she said, smiling cheerfully at him and he almost ruined the whole afternoon's lies when he ducked out of the reach of the hand that went to ruffle his hair. Just as well anyway. She shouldn't. She'd get her hand greasy.

Smoothly though, he bent down and pretended he was straightening the edge of the table cloth. "There!" he announced brightly. "Now it's perfect."

"Good," she agreed, and she reached back onto the counter and grabbed a bag of toffees. "Here," she said, holding them out. "Someone brought these in this morning. Take one."

He took one and he had to force himself to unwrap it and put it in his mouth at something approaching a reasonable speed. That half bagel from yesterday morning had been...well, it had been a half bagel yesterday morning. And once again, he felt starved.

_Greedy, _he told himself, as he sucked furiously at sweetness and sugar and tried to make it last as long as possible.

"Julie, we're closing up," one of the other librarians called over.

"Oh, right," she called back, distractedly.

"I'd better go," Rusty said obligingly as she turned back to him. "It's almost dinnertime." He sank his teeth into the toffee as he finished speaking.

"Okay then," she smiled at him. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow," he agreed.

She wouldn't.

* * *

"See, if I'd thought ahead, I would've made some excuse to linger and got a look at the alarm code," Rusty commented brightly.

Willing to play into the shift in mood, Danny opened his mouth to make some easy quip about hindsight. Then he froze.

Alarm.

Them, breaking into the library and setting off an alarm. The memory sparked in his head.

The secretaries arriving in the morning...the breakglass fire panel in the inner office...

He stared at Rusty abruptly. "If a fire alarm is set off, can they tell where it started immediately?"

Rusty shook his head. "No, it's just an alarm through the whole building."

Danny persisted. "And even if it's early, and there's no students in, they're still supposed to evacuate, right? It's the same kind of drill?"

"Yeah," Rusty agreed. "Burning to death is discouraged at any age. The panel in the office?"

Danny nodded quickly. "If we were hiding in there tomorrow morning – "

" – time it just right – " Rusty cut in and the plan unfolded like it always did.

" – as soon as the first person is in – "

" – has put down her keys – "

" – the alarm – "

" – she leaves – "

" – she _leaves _and we – "

" – we'd need to be quick – "

" – and careful," Danny agreed. "But we can get out, Rus'." He saw Rusty swallow thickly, emotions and fear and agitation and relief overwhelming. "We can get out and no one needs to know we were even here."

"I want out of here, Danny," Rusty said quietly, staring at the door again.

"We're getting out of here," Danny promised. He glanced at the window. "In just a few more hours."

"They see the broken panel, they'll know someone was in here," Rusty pointed out.

Couldn't be helped. "They won't know it was us," he said firmly.

Rusty was frowning thoughtfully. "Maybe..." He fell silent.

"What?" Danny asked, and his eagerness was partly for the potential plan and partly because he wanted Rusty to think about anything other than being trapped.

"I need to check," Rusty told him, standing up abruptly and heading for the inner office.

Danny followed and found Rusty glancing between the fire panel and the old wardrobe. "What?" he asked again.

"Suppose when they come back into the office, after the fire alarm they see the broken glass and something lying on the floor?" Rusty asked. "Something like that," he added, pointing at the stuffed otter on top of the wardrobe.

"A freak accident," Danny nodded in dawning understanding. And maybe they'd think it was unlikely but –

" – more likely than someone being trapped in here," Rusty said, glancing at him anxiously. "Right?"

Right. He smiled. "We can do this," he said, like it was going to be the easiest thing in the universe. "We can do this."

"'course we can," Rusty said airily, like it was nothing. "We can do _anything."_ He sighed and padded away from the inner office, slumping back down in front of the window. Danny watched him anxiously; he was tired. They both were. Tired and more-than-tired and he wanted this night to be over.

"So what happened next?" he asked softly as he sat back down beside Rusty.

* * *

It wasn't just him, he realised as he left the library. It really was colder now. There was an unseasonable chill in the air and it felt like it might rain. Great. Just...great.

He stayed in the doorway for a second, looking round, needing to be sure that Mack and Joe weren't waiting. No sign of them, but he didn't want to risk hanging around any longer than he had to.

Ducking his head, he scurried through the streets, sticking close to people, frightened of being seen, of being caught, anxious to get home...to get back to his alley. _Not _home. This was all just temporary. Home was with Dad and he'd be allowed back tomorrow.

In the meantime...he stepped into his alley and smiled as Wolfy ran up and jumped into his arms.

The smile was genuine and helpless and heartfelt. "Hey, Wolfy," he whispered, cuddling her close. "Did you miss me?"

She purred contentedly, snuggling into his chest like he was her very best friend.

He slumped bonelessly onto the doorstep. "Oh, Wolfy, I'm so tired," he admitted quietly.

The cat burrowed in closer and he pressed his face against her. "Thank you," he said, and the gratitude was genuine. This helped. Made him feel better.

It had been such a long time. Or at least it felt like such a long time. And he felt like crying, and he missed Danny so much, wanted Danny so badly, and when he was with Wolfy it felt almost, nearly, just-about a fraction as good.

Eventually the urge to cry faded. He smiled down at Wolfy. "Thank you," he murmured again.

The cat mewed at him piteously.

"You hungry?" he asked her softly. Guiltily, he realised he hadn't managed to feed her since yesterday morning. "You must be hungry. I'm sorry. It hurts, doesn't it?" It hurt inside, a gnawing, an emptiness. He didn't want that for Wolfy. She was so thin and helpless.

He was all she had, and when he left... "I'm going home tomorrow," he told her confidingly. "Maybe...maybe you could come with me." It could work. He could make it work. "If you stayed in my room. Dad doesn't go there very often. You'd probably be as safe there as you are here. I promise I'd protect you. I wouldn't let Dad hurt you. And there'd be food. I'm good at getting food." He sighed. "_Normally _I'm good at getting food."

He stroked a hand down Wolfy's side and he could feel every rib. "I should get you something to eat." He was responsible for her, after all.

It would only take a moment. If he just ran up to the trash outside the movie theatre, he could just grab what was there. And he could eat something as well, and he didn't even try to pretend that wasn't tempting. No one would see him, if he was quick.

It would only take a moment.

Determinedly, he stood up and pulled his jacket tight and his hat down, and headed out of the alley.

There was obviously a movie just getting out, and he stood against the wall as all the people walked past, talking and laughing, and he watched as they dumped half empty boxes of popcorn, empty packets, tubs of icecream...none of them gave him a second glance and he waited until they'd all gone past.

The street was empty, but it was still daylight and he couldn't count on that for any length of time. He moved quickly, grabbing an icecream tub – it had hardly anything in it, but cats liked cream, he knew that – and the fullest box of popcorn. This'd do. Was just for tonight, after all.

He headed back to the alley quickly.

"Been to the movies, chicky?"

Joe's voice. He made to run, but Mack had him by the collar in an instant, hauling him up, his feet kicking uselessly as the popcorn and the icecream fell to the ground. "Let me go!"

Joe laughed. "Not a chance. When are you going to get it? You _owe _us. We own you."

"I got nothing," he spat, twisting round to look Joe in the face. "You're wasting your time. I got no money. I got nothing."

"You've got plenty," Joe corrected with a wide and savage grin. "Just because you were too lazy to get our money, doesn't mean you don't have anything." He reached forwards and snatched the hat from Rusty's head. "This hat, your jacket, the fun of beating you up..."

Mack dropped him and wrenched his jacket away. "My kid sister used to have a jacket like this," he said.

"Hear that?" Joe asked, sounding amused. "You're such a little girl, chicky." He hit Rusty, hard and unexpected, and Rusty found himself falling forwards, his face hitting hard against the pavement, and the pain made him cry out. Joe laughed again and kicked him hard, in the stomach, in the ribs, time and again.

There were people walking past, on the other side of the street, but none of them were looking, none of them were even thinking of interfering. Kids being kids.

He turned his head to this side, dazed and trying to get back to his feet. His eyes widened; Wolfy was there. Wolfy was trotting over to him, and she shouldn't...she mustn't... "Run!" he hissed, without even thinking about it, and she ignored him.

"Hey, what's this?" Mack asked, as the cat reached them and started to wind round their legs, mewing anxiously. "Stupid cat! Get out of it!" He aimed a kick at her, and Rusty saw her run.

She ran straight out into the road.

The car didn't even slow down.

"No!" he screamed, and he was on his feet, running. "Wolfy!"

She was dead. He knew immediately she was dead, nothing could look that mangled and possibly live.

"Wolfy," he whispered, dropping to his knees and reaching out a trembling hand towards red blood and matted fur. "Wolfy..."

Joe and Mack were laughing.

He was on his feet again, charging at them, hitting out as hard as he could. "Bastards! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

People were stopping now, people were looking, but none of them said anything, none of them spoke up.

"Shut him up!" Joe snapped, and Mack obligingly clamped a hand over his mouth and twisted his arm behind his back, and Rusty struggled and kicked and bit, but he couldn't get free. "Aw, poor little chicky," Joe crooned, leaning in close to his face. "Is your kitty roadkill?"

He managed to tear his head away from Mack's hand and he spat right in Joe's eye.

Joe's face darkened as he wiped it away. He pulled a switchknife out of his back pocket. Rusty couldn't keep his eyes off the blade, as it came so close to his face. He didn't move. Didn't breathe.

"That was a mistake, chicky," Joe told him quietly. "Now, we got some business with you. You're going to come with us and do exactly as we say, okay? And if you don't..." He smiled and the knife was glinting against Rusty's face and he already had plenty experience imagining what that felt like. "If you don't you're going to get cut."

Wolfy was dead. Danny was miles away. No one was going to help him.

He nodded obediently.

* * *

There were tears on Danny's face and he made no effort to wipe them away.

Rusty had drawn his knees up to his chest and his face was buried in his arms. "It was just a stupid cat, Danny," he said, his voice muffled. "It didn't matter. None of it mattered."

Yeah. Just a cat that Rusty had loved and cared for and lost. Just a knife that should never have been drawn. Just two teenagers abducting a distraught ten year old while adults stood and watched. Just cruelty and callousness and squalor and suffering.

He wrapped his arms tight around Rusty, murmuring words that were soothing and meaningless, and for the second time tonight he thought Rusty was crying.

It did matter. It mattered a great deal.

Rusty turned his head and let himself cry against Danny's shoulder.

It was a long time before he managed to continue the story.

* * *

They led him to an abandoned warehouse, down by the river. Wasn't that far, really. Not that he'd have known if it was; all his attention was on the need not to cry in front of the bastards.

He _wasn't _going to cry. He really, really wasn't. It hurt, but he couldn't think about it now, and with superhuman effort he managed to force the memory of Wolfy lying dead in the road into the back of his mind. He had to find a way of getting away from Joe and Mack. He had to. Somehow. He didn't even know what they _wanted _from him and he was so scared. All he wanted was to run, get away from this nightmare, but they were holding him too tight and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't get away.

The door had previously been kicked in and they dragged him inside. The inside of the warehouse was dark and dingy, the only light coming from a small fire in a metal trash can in the middle of the floor. There were a couple of boys huddled round it, drinking beer and laughing about something. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw other groups of kids scattered around the place. They were all a lot older than he was. A lot older than Danny, even.

The knife was still in Joe's hand and, as he hesitated in the doorway, the blade was pressed against the back of his neck. Just the touch of it was enough to make him shake and it was like he couldn't think of anything else. Joe dug it in a little harder, enough that he could feel blood trickling down the back of his neck, and he flinched and stumbled forwards, unable to stop himself from crying out, a soft, childish noise of fear and distress, and he _knew _that Joe was enjoying this. Just like Dad would. He felt himself reddening as Joe laughed. Like with Dad, he told himself firmly. Keep quiet and don't let them see that it hurts.

He heard a muffled shriek and turned instinctively. There was a girl there. The only one in the warehouse. And she was on her knees in front of one of the boys, and there were three others gathered around cheering, and her mouth was open and her eye was bruised and swollen, and Rusty looked away as quickly as possible. He didn't want to see that. Just like he'd never wanted to see...he screwed his eyes shut and shook his head from side to side quickly. _No. _

"What do we have here?" The voice was annoyed and Rusty's eyes shot open to see a tall boy with a buzz cut looking down at him. He stumbled backwards, crashing into Mack who grabbed him by the shoulder. "This look like a kindergarten?"

"This little chicky is a pickpocket, Al." Joe explained, smirking.

Al looked disgusted and unimpressed at the same time, and Rusty felt himself shrinking back. He'd seen that look before and he knew it meant nothing good. "A pickpocket. Fuck. This what you're bringing in to make up for losing DeeDee to Sharkey's boys?"

Behind him, Rusty was aware of Joe and Mack exchanging a look. "He made a hundred and fifty dollars yesterday," Mack offered.

"Yeah, right." Al snorted. "Whatever."

The money. The money was what it was all about. And he couldn't do that again, even if he wanted to. That kind of money just didn't come along everyday. Not for him, anyway.

"Hey fuck you," Joe snapped. "Bossman's going to be impressed."

Al laughed. "Keep dreaming, Joe. Look, I might have a delivery for you tomorrow. You going to be selling outside the shop?"

"Sure thing," Joe said with a shrug. "What time?"

"Early," Al said but Rusty wasn't really listening.

They weren't paying attention to him. He looked round the warehouse cautiously, keeping his head ducked, his shoulders hunched, edging away from them. There had to be a way out of here...his attention was caught by some shadows in the far corner. There was something moving...leaves, or something, blowing in the wind. And the shadows behind them were hiding some kind of hole, and he'd never be able to sneak out the front door but may, just maybe...

He edged a little further away, hoping against hope.

"Hey!" Mack's voice was loud and echoing, and Rusty was seized, spun round, and he barely had time to get his arms up, to try to shield himself, before the fist crashed into his face.

He lay on the floor spitting blood, too dazed to get up. His head had hit the floor, he thought. Hurt. Hurt a lot.

They ignored him. Carried on talking like he didn't even matter. God, why were they keeping him here?

"Say, what's with Candy?" Joe asked, somewhere above him.

Al made a disgusted sound. "She went with a john and tried to steal the Bossman's cut."

"Stupid bitch," Joe sniggered.

"Yeah." Al didn't sound the least bit interested. "Bossman says she's to entertain us tonight to make up for it."

There was a ringing in his ears and he was barely able to focus on Al's voice as he staggered to his feet.

Joe noticed him and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him close. "Heh. Maybe we could get her to make little chicky here a man."

He stared up into Joe's face, his heart in his mouth, and he couldn't say anything, couldn't even breathe.

Joe grinned. "Would you like that?"

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

He knew that his fear must have shown in his face from the way Joe grinned even more. "Hey, Candy!" he yelled across the warehouse. "We got a virgin here for you!"

She turned her head and swore at him. "Fuck off, Joe."

"Bitch," Joe muttered, letting go of Rusty and starting angrily towards her.

"Woah, enough," Al said firmly. "Look, you'd better go take your little pickpocket over to the Bossman. See if he's impressed."

"He will be." But Joe didn't sound completely convinced.

Al rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Mack seized his arm and dragged Rusty towards the back of the warehouse, Joe a step behind, and Rusty could feel him behind him, and he was thinking of the knife and he wished he could see what Joe was doing. It was worse, not knowing. Imagining.

He could barely keep up, barely keep his feet on the ground, as he was hauled along, and he could see the boy – man? – at the back of the warehouse now, sitting on a packing crate, older and better dressed than the others, drinking from a bottle of beer and listening to another couple of boys talk in low voices.

For some reason he was put in mind of old movies he'd seen. A king on his throne, holding court. And he could feel the anxiety pouring off Mack and Joe, and as they stood in front of the Bossman, he was almost surprised they didn't bow.

Joe cleared his throat nervously. "Hey, Bossman."

Bossman looked up, the bottle of beer dangling casually in his hand, and he looked over Joe and Mack for a second before focusing his stare on Rusty.

It wasn't a nice stare. And Rusty was used to people looking at him like he was nothing or less than nothing, an annoyance, an inconvenience, an embarrassment, or whatever. He was used to it and it didn't bother him that much anymore. This stare still made him want to turn and run.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to look away. Forced himself to meet Bossman's eyes and hide all the fear he could.

"What the fuck's this?" Bossman asked, after a second.

"We found him on the streets," Joe began. "Guess he's a runaway. He's a pickpocket. A good one – "

" – so what's he doing here?" Bossman asked, turning his attention back to his beer, Rusty not being half as interesting. "Charge him protection and that's an end to it."

There was an awkward pause. "He can make money," Joe said eventually. "Lots of money. We took a hundred and fifty dollars off him yesterday. And I – we – thought – "

" – you don't think," Bossman interrupted disgustedly. "What are we going to do with a pickpocket? That's not where the money is."

Mack dared to disagree. "A hundred and fifty dollars is pretty good money."

Rusty thought so. He also thought that if he could make that every day then his life would be a lot easier than it was. "Yeah, sure," he said disdainfully. "If all you want out of life is pocket change, then a hundred and fifty dollars is a good start."

Bossman laughed appreciatively and looked at him a little harder. He stood up slowly, walking over towards them. Mack grabbed both of Rusty's arms, holding him tightly, and Rusty swore and kicked and achieved absolutely nothing. For a long moment, Bossman gazed down at him and Rusty struggled to breathe. Then he reached out a hand and grabbed Rusty's face, tilting his head this way and that, and it made him dizzy and it made him feel sick.

"Yeah. Actually, maybe he can make money," he said thoughtfully, running his thumb down Rusty's cheek. "Maybe we can use him." He didn't take his eyes off Rusty's. Not for a second.

Rusty met the gaze fiercely. He wasn't going to look away and he wasn't going to let them see how frightened he was. "I'm not gonna steal for you!"

There was a chorus of amused laughter. Bossman grinned. "Whatever you say."

With a sudden gesture, he released Rusty and walked back to the crate and his beer. "You want to keep your little pet, let me know," he called over his shoulder to Joe and Mack. "I'll make some arrangements. Make a few calls."

"I'm not gonna steal for you," Rusty said again, and he meant it. He wouldn't. Not ever. But no one was listening and no one seemed to care.

Apparently their audience with the king was over, because Mack grabbed his arm again and he was dragged back across the floor and thrown against a wall as Mack and Joe found themselves a couple of beers and started talking to some of the other boys.

He leaned back, his arms wrapped tightly around himself, trying to stop himself from shaking, trying to stop the world from spinning, trying to stop himself from passing out. Tonight was too much for him. Like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

* * *

Rusty was sitting right next to him, leaning against him, safe and whole, and still Danny struggled to convince himself that Rusty had come through this okay, that Rusty had escaped, survived.

He wanted to hold Rusty close to him, maybe never let him out of his sight again.

And he knew that Rusty would never have stolen for the gang. Not in a million years. Rusty was stubborn and Danny had never known him to do anything that he thought was wrong. No matter what they did to him, Rusty wouldn't have stolen for them.

Danny was frightened for three years ago.

* * *

There was blood in his eye, he realised presently, and he reached up and wiped it away and curiously traced his fingers over the lump on his forehead. Ow. Oh. When he'd hit the ground earlier, he guessed. And the headache wasn't fading and that wasn't a good sign.

His vision was a little blurry as he looked round the warehouse and he blinked frantically, needing to bring the world into focus. He couldn't lose it now. He needed to escape. The hole in the wall still seemed the best option, but there were so many people between here and there.

What he needed was a distraction. Just a little distraction. Please.

Sometimes, wishes are answered.

There was a siren outside, close at hand, far too close at hand. The cops, and he saw the panic spread, the boys rushing to the front to see, and that was stupid, because the car didn't seem like it was slowing at all. Just a drive-by.

"If we get busted again, my Mom's going to kill me," Joe was saying to Mack as they rushed past. And they had rushed past. They hadn't paid even the slightest bit of attention to him.

Chance. And he never let those slip by if he could help it.

He was as quiet and as careful and as unobtrusive as he could be, darting along the wall, and still he was as quick as possible. There was no time to be anything else. And he was at the back of the warehouse before he knew it, looking at the hole, confident that he could wriggle through it.

But he looked back. He had to. And he looked at Candy, slumped against the wall, watching her cigarette burn out with blank eyes. Add ten years onto her and she'd be his mother. And he wished he hadn't thought that. But he couldn't let it be.

"Hey," he called softly.

She looked round and he didn't dare say anything else, but he flicked his eyes pointedly between her and the boys and the hole in the wall.

For a long moment she stared at him, and he couldn't imagine what she was thinking. Then she laughed shrilly. "Hey, Joe, your little chicky's running out on you!"

He didn't hesitate anymore; he ran and didn't look back.

* * *

"I don't know why she did that," Rusty said softly, his voice full of pain. "Her life didn't have to be like that."

They weren't talking about Candy anymore and Danny rubbed Rusty's shoulder and said nothing.

* * *

They didn't follow him. He wasn't even sure why; maybe they just couldn't find him. He nearly got run down by the police cruiser at the intersection and just for a moment he considered flagging it down. Telling them about Joe and Mack and Wolfy and the knife. Pointing them back to the warehouse. But they'd have to many questions for him, too many questions he couldn't answer.

He ducked his head, hid his face and stumbled on through the streets.

Wolfy. It hurt, deep inside. It was his fault. She'd been safe in that alley, living her life, and he'd come along and made her trust him and she'd got killed because of him.

But Joe and Mack had kicked her and watched her die and laughed, and he wasn't going to let that go. He couldn't.

His head was pounding. God. It was all he could do to keep on his feet and the world was swimming alarmingly and he kept thinking he was going to throw up. He recognised the signs; what came of getting hit on the head too hard. Really, he had to get better at ducking. And his ribs were hurting again where they'd kicked him, and the back of his neck was stinging...basically, he was a mess.

It started to rain. He started to laugh. "Get worse!" he shouted jubilantly, at the sky, at his life. "Go on, I dare you!"

It was so cold now. He wished he'd managed to keep his jacket.

He stuck by the river, trudging on until he found a bridge.

He sat beneath it and shivered till morning. He didn't sleep and he didn't dream.

Morning came and his plans were cold and hard and real. It could work. If he was quick enough. If he could outrun them over four blocks.

He bit his lip; he was five years younger than them, five years shorter than them, and he was exhausted, starved, hurting and frozen. Really, he should be amazed if he managed to run half a block.

Wolfy, he reminded himself. It was worth it. To hell with the practical and the realistic, he wasn't going to let them get away with this.

Every morning at exactly ten past nine, just after they went on shift, four cops crossed from the police station into the bakery across the street and bought a supply of coffee and doughnuts. It was right in front of the fountain where he and Danny often met; he must have seen them a dozen times.

That was the finish line. The shop where he'd first encountered Mack and Joe, that was the start. They'd said last night they'd be selling outside there, and he didn't think for a second they'd be selling candy.

All he had to do was make them follow him.

He grinned. Oh, that was the easy part.

"Hi there," he began brightly, strolling up to them, his hands stuffed deep in his pocket. "Anyone ever tell you that you're about as ugly as a shaved dog in flares? 'Bout as smart too."

They stared at him for a long moment, like he was the most unlikely thing they'd ever seen.

"You are fucking _dead," _Joe said finally, shaking his head in wonderment. "You are seriously fucking dead. We are going to cut you open, little chicky."

Well, this was him committed, he thought as he ran. In fact, bridges had been well and truly burned.

There were people shouting and jumping out of the way. He didn't dare slow down and he didn't dare look behind him and his head was hurting worse than ever and his chest was burning, and he _had _to do this, he just had to.

They were gaining on him. Screaming at him. Promising exactly what they were going to do when they caught him.

God, it was going to be close.

He risked a glance up at the clock over the jewellers as he ran past. Nine minutes past. Well, that was a relief. If he'd had to lead them round the block a couple of times it could've got messy.

He slowed down just a little, only partly because of the very real fear that his lungs were going to explode, and when he turned the corner, his arms flung wide, he was perfectly positioned to bring two cops down in a confusing tangle, and that left them all ready for Mack and Joe to fall over a half second later.

There was a lot of yelling. A lot of confusion. And, somehow, the empty wallet he'd stolen the other day and retrieved that morning, wound up in Mack's pocket.

He scrambled to his feet first and stared up at the cop gripping his arm. "They said they were gonna cut me!" he said, breathless and wide-eyed and sounding as child-like as he knew how. "I saw them stealing and they said they were gonna cut me! They have knives! I saw them!"

Mack and Joe tried to run, but a second later they were on the ground and being searched. The wallet, knives and little bags of grass, and suddenly they were being read their rights.

Rusty resisted the urge to grin. And now for the finish. To make sure that they didn't get any ideas about coming after him later. Seemed like they were scared of two things; cops and parents. Understandable, rational fears, but sometimes things were necessary.

He glanced at the furthest away cop. The one that none of them could've got a good look at. "Daddy!" he exclaimed, loud enough that everyone could hear, and he threw himself towards the startled man, his arms extended as if for a hug. He stopped at the last possible moment. "Sorry, sir," he said, much quieter, as Mack and Joe were being led away towards the police station. "I thought you were my father."

"He a badge?" the cop asked, and he was smiling indulgently.

"Uh huh!" Rusty nodded enthusiastically. "He's the best!" Enough to confuse the issue. Enough to suggest that maybe he wasn't someone to mess with, that maybe he was protected.

The cop was frowning. "They do this to you?" he asked sharply, and he was reaching out towards Rusty, his eyes fixed on the bruises, his hand too close to Rusty's face.

Rusty flinched backwards, unable to stop himself, his arm coming up to protect could see the suspicion dawning in the cop's eyes, and he was gone in an instant, pushing through the gathered crowd, losing himself in streets and people.

* * *

Danny looked at Rusty, a thousand questions dawning.

Rusty smiled. "I never saw them again," he said reassuringly. "The drugs, the wallet...they'd have gotten in trouble. And they never came looking."

"How about the others?" Danny asked after a second.

"They were never really interested in me in the first place," Rusty said with a shrug. "I wasn't anything to them. It all ended fine."

"_That _ended fine," Danny pointed out. There was more and the more was pain.

"Yeah," Rusty sighed.

* * *

The adrenaline had worn off by the time he trudged up the stairs to the apartment. Dizzy and weak, he ached all over and all he wanted to do was curl up in a small ball and sleep forever.

There was no answer when he knocked at the door the first time. And that wasn't too unusual. Sometimes Dad was asleep or too drunk to stand, or just didn't want to let Rusty back in. But there was no answer the second time. Or the third time. Or ten minutes after that. Or half an hour after that.

He sat shivering on the concrete landing, his back pressed against the door, his arms wrapped around his knees, and he wondered what to do next.

Probably Dad had just gone down to the shops or something. Maybe he was out of smokes or vodka. Food, even. He might've gone himself since Rusty hadn't been there to send. Chances were good that he'd be right back, and he'd let Rusty into the apartment and he'd be able to have a shower and get fresh clothes, warm up and sleep in his own bed, and when he met Danny tomorrow the past week would be nothing but a nightmare.

All he had to do was wait and everything would be alright again.

Must've been an hour or so later when the landlord showed up. Getting close to lunchtime anyway, he thought. Not that there was any real way for him to tell.

He stood up respectfully when he saw Mr Biggens coming up the stairs. Least he _tried _to, scrambling to his feet, but he did it just a little too fast and with his head pounding and his stomach rolling, he wound up leaning against the door, hoping that he wouldn't throw up on the man's shoes.

"Oh, it's you," Mr Biggens said sourly.

Rusty managed to nod. "Yes, sir," he agreed.

"Does this mean your father's in today?" Mr Biggens demanded.

Rusty frowned and there was something that was worrying about that question. Like Dad hadn't been here for a while. "He's not in right now," he offered, and that was all he knew.

The scowl deepened. "Right. Just like the past three days. You see him, you tell him I want my money. He's skipped out there's gonna be trouble."

"I will," Rusty nodded.

"What are you going there anyway?" Mr Biggens asked. "He leave you behind?"

"No," Rusty said immediately. "Of course not." Practically running, he slipped past Mr Biggens and headed for the stairs. "I have to go. When I see Dad, I'll let him know you're looking for him."

For the second time in a week he found himself blindly stumbling out of the front door, not daring to slow down, even for a moment.

He walked through the rain and tried to make sense of the world.

Three days. Dad hadn't been home in three days. And there was cold dread and icy terror but no surprise.

Thing was, Mom had left a year ago. Mom had left and Dad had stayed. And he'd always made it clear that Rusty was a burden and an unwanted responsibility, but he'd stayed because that was what a man did, or something.

And, whatever Danny said, Rusty had to be at least a little bit grateful for that. He'd had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, warmth, water, clothes and food, even, though he mostly bought that for himself these days. Point was, Dad didn't _have _to do all that. He really could just have easily abandoned Rusty a long time ago.

It had always been a possibility. Right from when he was a little kid, he'd understood that they could up and leave him any time they liked in a way that he just _couldn't. _He was dependent on them, and he'd always done his best to be as independent as possible. He wasn't like other kids, with their families who cared about them and protected them. That just wasn't something that he got; he'd always known that.

And now they had left him. He had to admit, in all probability, Dad just wasn't going to come back. Dad had got tired of looking after him, just like Mom had, and now they'd thrown him away.

He choked down the sob with an effort; this was no time to be childish.

He supposed it could be considered a kindness. After all, Dad hadn't _actually _thrown him out into the streets, he'd told him to go to Danny's for the week. Probably he'd figured possession was nine tenths of the law. Probably he'd figured that Danny's parents would have to take him in.

(_That was never going to happen._)

He bit his lip; he was cold and he was exhausted and his bruises were aching and his head was still spinning. He really wasn't in any place to make any kind of decision.

What he needed...what he needed was a hot drink. Yes. If he just sat someplace safe and warm for a while, with a hot drink in his hand, then he'd stop shivering and everything would be clearer. Better.

He found himself staring at a nickel on the pavement. Huh. Well, that was a start.

* * *

For the first time Danny thought he understood Rusty's conviction that _they _weren't forever. Everyone left, and maybe in Rusty's mind he wasn't any different.

And he'd heard the shame in Rusty's voice, and even if Rusty hadn't actually said the _words _"It was my fault" Danny still knew the way Rusty's mind worked. An awful possibility began to dawn.

Rusty hadn't told him he was living on the streets. Was that because he'd thought Danny would look down on him? Fuck, had Rusty been afraid that Danny would leave too?

He didn't think he could bear it if that was true. Didn't think he knew how to live with that.

He held Rusty's hand tightly and he never wanted to let go.

(_He didn't feel quite brave enough to ask._)

* * *

Took a lot of searching but eventually he'd gathered enough pennies off the street to get himself a hot chocolate at Mabel's. And maybe that was a stupid priority but the thing was he was soaked to the skin and he couldn't stop shivering and he didn't think that was all to do with hunger and exhaustion. Felt like he'd never be warm again.

An hour – half an hour, even – in a warm, dry building with a hot drink would solve at least one of his problems. Would go some way towards filling his stomach too. Not that he felt that hungry. In fact, the thought of food made him feel sick. Huh. Probably the head injury. Well, that and the pain and dizziness would vanish in a day or so at most, experience told him. Until then as long as he didn't make any sudden movements he should be fine. No more headlong chases through the streets...he bit his lip as the grief raised its head. He wouldn't have to do that again. No more revenge.

He should've gone somewhere other than Mabel's, he knew that right from the moment he walked through the door. Just that, if he was being absolutely honest with himself, the need to see someone smile at him had factored a little more into his decision than it should have.

But Mabel wasn't smiling when he walked through the door. Mabel looked shocked and just a little bit horrified.

Thankfully the diner was nearly empty as she darted across the floor towards him and he took a couple of steps backwards, his eyes fixed on her face and he was afraid...

Mabel wouldn't hurt him, he told himself fiercely (_doubtfully) _And there was a sign that he was a little overwrought; it had been at least a year since he'd struggled to remember _that._

"Oh, honey, what _happened?" _Mabel asked, coming to a halt a few steps in front of him

He blinked up at her and just for a moment wild words were hovering on his tongue.

(_"Dad threw me out and now he's left me for good and Wolfy died and there were boys and they hurt me and I was scared and I thought I was never going to escape and now I don't have anywhere to go and I don't have any money and I hate sleeping on the streets and I'm cold and it hurts and Wolfy's dead and _I want Danny.")

He shrugged uneasily instead. That was a little speech that he wouldn't share with anyone. Not even Danny. Not that Danny would need to hear it to know _something..._

"Your face," Mabel went on, her eyes fixed on him. "And your head..."

He reached up a hand to his forehead. Oh, yeah. Right. "Fell off Brady's bike," he explained, making sure he sounded properly embarrassed. "We were seeing how many people could ride it at once."

She didn't seem to be listening to him, she was staring at the bruises on his arm where he'd raised it. Oh, he really wished he still had the jacket. Thankfully they'd faded enough that they didn't look like fingermarks anymore.

"And you're soaking," she muttered and, guiltily, he looked down to see that he was dripping dirty water all over her floor.

"I'm sorry," he apologised at once, grimacing and surreptitiously trying to mop it up with the bottom of his jeans.

"Come on inside," Mabel said firmly and she led him to the usual table in the corner and got him sitting down.

She disappeared for a moment and came back with a towel. "Dry yourself up, huh? We don't want you catching cold."

He smiled at her gratefully and set to work drying his face, hair and hands vigorously.

By the time he was done the towel was looking decidedly grimy. Luckily, Mabel didn't seem to notice. "Okay, honey. Now, what can I get you?"

"Hot chocolate, please," he said, holding out the handful of coins. All he had and exactly enough.

She frowned, eying him unhappily "Just hot chocolate? You sure?"

He nodded tightly. "Yeah. Thank you."

"Okay, sweetheart," Mabel said placatingly, and when she walked away she was looking back at him anxiously.

With a deep sigh, he leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. No matter how Mabel was looking at him he felt better for being here. Just a tiny little piece of his normal life. He sat back and let himself relax.

He looked up, smiling, as Mabel came back but his smile quickly faded. She was carrying a tray and there wasn't just hot chocolate on it. He stared as she laid the bowl of soup, the grilled chicken sandwich and the jelly doughnut on the table.

"I know you didn't order it," she said before he could say anything. "But it's here now and you might as well eat it."

He licked his lips, struggling to focus on her, his eyes still kind of blurry. "Mabel, I can't..." he stuttered. "I mean, I don't want it," he tried, with a certain amount of desperation.

She sighed and sat down in the seat opposite him and looked at him seriously. "Rusty, sweetheart, you've lost weight since I saw you last week. And you didn't have a whole lot going spare to start with. You look skinny right now. Too skinny. It's not healthy for a child your age."

Oh. He bit his lip and offered the easy lie. "I've been ill. I didn't feel like eating...I still don't feel like eating."

Mabel didn't look like that was hard to believe and he guessed he must look worse than he'd thought. "You still need to eat, sweetheart. You need to keep your strength up. When was the last time you ate a proper meal?"

By Mabel's definition, that would be the night before Danny had left. Danny's Mom had made a pot roast. But that had been a week ago and he didn't think that was the answer Mabel was looking for. "I skipped breakfast," he admitted, hoping that would be enough.

Judging by the look in her eyes she felt there was more to it than that. But all she said was. "Try eating something. Please."

He bit his lip. "I can't afford it, Mabel," he whispered at last, a wild and wavering note audible in his voice.

She looked across the table at him compassionately. "I know that, sweetheart," she said. "But you need to eat and I got this food here that'll just go to waste otherwise. So how does this sound? You eat it up now and sometime when you're feeling better, you can work a couple of hours in the diner to pay me back. How does that sound?"

"I can do the work now," Rusty protested immediately, standing up and, as a wave of dizziness passed over him, gripping the edge of the table surreptitiously.

Mabel didn't seem to notice. "I don't need the help, now," she said reasonably. "Come in some Saturday – not _this _Saturday," she added quickly. "Won't be busy this week. Maybe in a couple of weeks, that's when you'll really be helping me."

That sounded sensible to him. He nodded slowly, suppressing a yawn. "Okay," he agreed.

"Good." She smiled warmly at him. "Now sit down and eat your soup before it gets cold."

"Yes, ma'am," he said automatically, sitting back down, and struggling to focus on her.

"Mabel," she corrected him gently, getting to her feet. "I'll be back in a minute."

While she was gone he managed a few spoonfuls of soup and a couple of bites of the sandwich. It tasted good but he still felt sick and dizzy and he was struggling with the next spoonful when Mabel reappeared. He recognised the first aid kit in her hands.

"It's not that bad," he protested.

"It _is, _sweetheart," she disagreed softly. "Please let me take a look."

He wanted to say no, wanted to run away, even, but he could imagine the look in Danny's eyes, the pleas for Rusty to get at least a little help. He couldn't say no to Danny. Not like that. He nodded unsteadily and sat – tense and awkward and inexplicably frightened – as Mabel cleaned the cut on his forehead.

"I don't think you'll need stitches," she told him, and he blinked at the idea that had ever been a possibility. "But your Dad might want to take you to the doctors." And that had _never_ been a possibility. But he smiled and nodded like it could be, as Mabel pressed a bandaid to his forehead, cleaned up the other cut on the back of his neck, and rubbed arnica cream over all the bruises she could see, and he tried to avoid flinching with every gentle touch.

Mabel wouldn't hurt him, he chanted in his head again. Mabel had never hurt him before, so she wasn't going to hurt him this time.

"There we go," she said presently. "Now, are you hurt anyplace else?"

"No," he said, and that was _always _the right answer to that question.

She looked at him for a long moment but he met the gaze with innocence and sincerity and in the end she was satisfied. "Okay, then," she said and she glanced down at the half eaten bowl of soup and the barely-touched sandwiches. "Is that all you're gonna eat?"

He nodded, shamefaced, and he started to apologise for wasting her food.

She cut him off immediately. "You did very well, sweetheart. Do you feel better for having eaten?"

He nodded again. Yeah, he did, actually. And he wasn't cold anymore. "Thank you, Mabel," he said, suppressing another yawn.

"You're more than welcome, honey."

A couple of moments and she was bringing him over another mug of hot chocolate. "Here," she said quietly. "Enjoy."

He did. Sipping it slowly and luxuriating in warmth and sweetness, and right now, right at this moment, he was almost happy and he found his eyes closing, found his head nodding towards the table.

He slept and he dreamt and his dreams were safety and escape and Danny.

He woke and there was a hand in his hair and someone was near him, someone was touching him, and it wasn't Danny, and they were too close and he bit the inside of his mouth hard to keep from screaming. Touching and notDanny and that meant danger and pain and he jumped back, jerking his head out of the way, his arm swinging up to shield himself from the follow-up punch, and his arm crashed into something and the next thing there was cold water everywhere and the sound of breaking glass.

At that he couldn't help but cry out.

He wasn't the only one.

The cry of shock and fear was the first time he managed to wake up enough to focus on Mabel's face.

Her eyes were wide and she looked surprised and frightened.

His eyes flickered down to the pool of water across the table and across him and the broken pitcher on the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Mabel," he said immediately, guiltily. "Let me clear that up – " He reached down towards the glass shards, getting down onto her hands and knees.

It was like a spell had been broken. "No!" she said sharply, putting out a hand as if to push him away, and he shrank back quickly.

"Sorry," he muttered wretchedly. He couldn't do anything right.

"I just don't want you to cut yourself," she explained. "Let me get a brush and shovel. Oh, and let me get a towel for you," she added muttering. "You're soaked again, sweetheart."

She vanished and was back almost instantly, holding out a fresh towel to him and sweeping up the broken glass.

"I didn't mean to scare you, honey," she said regretfully, gazing up at him as he rubbed the towel futilely over his t-shirt.

"I know," he said quietly. "It was my fault." It was. He worked so hard to hide all those stupid, childish instincts that disturbed everyone else.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm closing up now," she went on.

Oh. He looked round the diner and realised for the first time that the diner was closed up and empty. "I slept all afternoon?" he asked wonderingly.

"Yeah," Mabel told him. "You looked like you needed it."

He probably had. And he had to admit he did feel better for it. "I'm sorry," he said anyway. "I must've been in your way..."

She sighed. "Oh, honey, not at all." She crouched down in front of him and placed a hand on his knee, removing it immediately as he couldn't help but tense up. "Listen, Rusty, it's getting dark outside. I think I should walk you home. Make sure you get back safe."

Not gonna happen. _Couldn't _happen. "I'll be fine," he told her. "I've been on my own in the dark lots of times and nothing bad has ever happened." Nothing that he hadn't survived, anyway. Nothing that _he _hadn't survived...

He didn't think that Mabel missed the flicker of lie and grief that he couldn't keep from his face.

"I want to have a few words with your Dad anyway, Rusty," she went on quietly.

He stood up sharply, fear racing through him, staring at her. "What kind of words?" he asked, wondering what she wanted to tell Dad, wondering what he'd done.

She held up a hand. "You're not in trouble," she assured him. "Just that there's a few things I want to discuss with him."

He bit his lip. Thing was, Mabel didn't know where he lived. Mabel didn't even know his surname. And there was a look in her eyes right now, a regret and a determination, and he didn't know what she was thinking or planning, he just knew that he couldn't let her...he couldn't let her.

He didn't say another word.

He just up and ran.

And even though he heard her calling his name, pleading with him, even though he heard her running after him, he didn't slow down and he didn't look round.

He wouldn't be going back to Mabel's. Not for a very long time.

* * *

They hadn't, Danny remembered. Not until the next year and that was six months and more. He remembered when they'd walked back through the door, the look on Mabel's face...she'd hugged them both tightly, brought them more food than they could possibly eat, wouldn't listen to their apologies.

"She doesn't ask that sort of question anymore," Rusty said, and his voice was haunted and regretful.

"She would've taken care of you if she'd known," Danny said quietly. "She would've made sure you were someplace safe."

"Yeah," Rusty looked at him. "And you would've been okay with that?"

Would he have been okay with Rusty safe and looked after, instead of on his own, on the streets, sleeping who knew where, facing who knew what? "Of course," he answered indignantly.

Rusty was still looking at him. "You were away, remember? You would've come back and I wouldn't have been where we'd agreed to meet, and you wouldn't have known where I was. And you would've been okay with that?"

_No. _The answer was there immediately and instinctively. But that was selfishness and that wasn't truth was it? (_Was it? _) "If I'd known you were alright..." he said reluctantly.

"You wouldn't," Rusty said instantly. "And maybe you'd never have known."

He could imagine. Imagine inexplicable disappearance and terror and desperation. "Then no," Danny admitted heavily. "I wouldn't be okay with that."

"Yeah," Rusty said softly. "You see? It's better this way. All worked out in the end."

* * *

It was still raining but not as heavily and he stuck as close to the walls as possible, keeping as sheltered as possible as he searched for a place to spend the night.

The alley was out. No way he'd be able to bear that again. And the bridge from last night was too exposed and too close to the warehouse. He didn't know for sure that no one was looking for him, all he had were his best hopes and guesses.

Really, anywhere hidden would do and in the end he found a sheltered doorway in a deserted sidestreet. He hoped it would do.

He curled up as tightly as possible, looking to conserve heat. Least tonight he was well fed. It made a difference.

Tomorrow there would be Danny.

He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He woke up in the middle of the night as he heard loud voices coming towards him. Anger and the sound of a struggle, drunken laughter. He was up and running in an instant, consumed by panic. Visions of Dad coming for him, angry and ready to hit and hurt mixed with visions of Mack and Joe, free and there to drag him back to the warehouse, keep him there forever, make him do what they wanted.

He didn't stop running until he was sure they weren't following.

The rain had stopped at least. It was still cold for the time of year, but he'd dried out and as he wandered along the street, he figured keeping moving was probably best. Not least because the alley he ducked into when he heard someone shouting was crawling with rats.

Everywhere was frightening. Everywhere was filled with potential threats and just because he had escaped – apparently – from Mack and Joe and their friends didn't meant that there was no one else out there who would hurt him if they found him, who would try to rob him of money he didn't have.

The streets were dark and he could hear footsteps coming towards him and he didn't want to _be _here anymore, he just wanted (_Danny_) to go home.

He found himself running up the stairs to Dad's apartment, banging on the door desperately, chanting soft, frantic pleas. "Let me in, let me in, let me in, let me in." Right now he thought he'd promise Dad anything he wanted if he'd just come back for him.

There was no answer.

* * *

Normally Rusty's Dad being someplace far away was what Danny _wanted_. Now, he hated the idea of Rusty having no place to go.

Couldn't happen now, of course. Not like that, anyway. Rusty might not ever have a key to his own front door, but he could pick the lock with one hand tied behind his back.

Actually, it must've been a couple of weeks after this, when Rusty had sat in his room and said that they should learn how to pick locks. He remembered. Rusty's voice had been serious and his eyes had been desperate and Danny had understood that this wasn't an intellectual exercise, wasn't about fun and games.

He'd assumed then that Rusty was thinking about escaping from places. Not wanting to be locked up ever again.

(_He glanced at the office door and the irony didn't escape him.)_

Now, he figured that maybe Rusty had just wanted to have a better chance of sleeping in his own bed.

* * *

Just as well Dad wasn't there, he thought dully, leaning his forehead against the door. If he'd woke Dad up at this time in the morning he'd probably wind up _dreaming _he was back in the nice, safe warehouse with the boys who wanted to use him.

He stared at the door. Dad wasn't going to come back. He was just about certain of that. But just in case, he wanted to know. Searching around the hallway he found a scrap of paper and he folded it and carefully pushed it into the crack of the door, just above the jamb. There. Now he'd be able to see if anyone had opened the door.

Very briefly he considered just staying in the hallway, outside the door. But there were too many people who would know him, too many people who would look at him with disapproving eyes, who would feel that he was somehow their business.

He headed back onto the streets. Still didn't feel safe to sleep. He ducked down behind a wall next to the park and waited till morning, lightly dozing and waking up at every noise, absolute terror coursing through him.

He was up at the crack of dawn. If he was going to see Danny he wanted to be as clean and neat as possible and he headed to the nearest public restroom and cleaned himself up as well as he could. With a grimace he tried to fix his hair in the mirror with his fingers.

It hurt, but he remembered back when he was seven, about three weeks after he'd first met Mabel, the first time he'd walked into the diner without Danny. Mabel had been gentle and tactful, but she'd combed his hair for him, explaining how to style it, how to keep it neat. No one had ever done that for him before. And his hair had been a mess then. Mom had cut it for him when he was a kid, but since the previous summer, since the knife, he hadn't wanted to let her near him with anything sharp. That night he tried cutting it himself but he hadn't been able to get it right at the back. Danny had noticed the next time they'd met, of course, and he'd offered to do it. And that next Saturday, at the diner, Mabel had smiled at him and said how smart he looked and Rusty had been so happy.

He opened his eyes and carefully rearranged his hair one more time. There. Not looking too bad. His mouth was still a little swollen, his face was maybe a little gaunt, and he was still slightly bruised, and there was the bandaid on his forehead, but he wasn't looking too bad. Maybe Danny wouldn't notice anything was wrong.

Yeah. Who was he kidding?

They'd agreed to meet at the abandoned house the day Danny got back. They had no real way of knowing what kind of mood Danny's parents would be in when they got home and they hadn't wanted to risk Rusty knocking on the door and being turned away. Had happened before, after all.

Was easier for Danny to sneak _out _than for Rusty to sneak _in._

He stopped by the apartment on his way in. Just call him an incurable optimist. The piece of paper hadn't been disturbed and there was no answer when he knocked. Fantastic. He wasn't surprised.

Took him an hour or more to get to the house. He had to keep stopping for a break. God, he was tired. Oh, the physical pain was hardly worth mentioning, aside from a vague, persistent throbbing in his ribs, all his injuries were healing nicely, but he still felt drained and shaky. Besides. He had to be absolutely _certain _that no one was following him.

Naturally, he didn't stop once he was in Danny's neighbourhood. Last thing he wanted was to risk Juliet Darcey seeing him. Instead he practically ran towards the house.

Danny wasn't there, which also wasn't particularly surprising. They hadn't mentioned a particular time, but even so he was pretty sure he was early.

Sinking into a corner, his knees pulled up to his chest, his eyes closed, he waited.

He truly didn't know what happened next. Yeah, he'd been on the streets for the past week, but there'd always been a definite end point. He was just killing time. Now it looked like he was there for good and it was kinda terrifying. He didn't know how long he could live like this. And what happened when school started? What happened when winter came and it got cold? And surely, sooner or later, someone was going to notice. And then they'd take him away. (_They'd take him away and lock him up and he'd never see sunlight again. They'd feed him on old kitchen scraps, when they happened to remember, and every time he fucked up – and he would - they'd beat him senseless._) He shivered. It wouldn't be like that, he told himself. Dad did lie, sometimes. It wouldn't be like that.

But if he really wanted to stay on his own, to not have to worry about what anyone wanted from him, he'd need to leave town. Head somewhere bigger, somewhere they didn't know him, somewhere he could hide.

He didn't want to have to think about what that would mean.

Not yet, he decided. He'd give it a few more days. See what happened. Maybe Dad would come back for him. Maybe.

He dozed briefly and it wasn't long before he heard footsteps in the doorway. Danny's footsteps.

He looked up, smiling for what seemed like the first time in a week. _Danny. _But his smiled faded as he found himself looking at frozen worry and anger and sorrow.

Danny had seen him and Danny didn't like what he saw.

* * *

Danny remembered that moment. He'd missed Rusty so much while he'd been away, more than he would have imagined was possible. Rusty wasn't the only one who'd ran to the abandoned house, though the reasons had been very different.

His mind had been full – as indeed it had been all week – of all the thoughts and stories and experiences he needed to share.

And he remembered the moment that he'd seen Rusty slumped over there, and the bruises, God help him, would never come as a surprise. It had been more than that. More, even, than the way Rusty had been noticeably thinner than he had been last week, more than the visible exhaustion and the dark circles under Rusty's eyes. It had been something else. Something that had made him think of those days after Rusty's Mom had left. Like he was looking at the memory of terror and the certainty of defeat. Like Rusty had been pushed right to the edge and a little further.

It had frightened him.

* * *

The look vanished almost immediately. Danny smiled at him, bright and gently. "Rough week?" he asked, crossing the floor and reaching out a hand to help him up.

He laughed, and it sounded rough and cracked to his ears. "Had better," he agreed, and he hesitated for a second before taking Danny's hand. Just for a second. But Danny noticed, and when he was on his feet, Danny folded Rusty's hand between both of his and held on tight.

His eyes were on the bruises on Rusty's face. "Oh, Rus'..." he murmured.

One good thing about having a harsher-than-average upbringing was that all of life's little problems could be attributed to it. He _knew _that Danny never even considered that these bruises might come from anywhere other than Dad. And somehow that hurt. He chewed on his lip. "So how was Italy?"

"Good," Danny nodded slowly. "It was good. Hot." He hesitated, his eyes fixed on Rusty, like he was struggling to say something else, but in the end he obviously let it go. "Mom had to go in to work and Dad _said _he had to go into work, so we've got the house to ourselves for the day. You want to go and grab some food and watch TV?"

Food. TV. With Danny. Safe and normal and with Danny. It had been such a long week and he'd been so alone and now there was Danny. For a second he couldn't speak. For a second he felt like the tears were welling up inside, and he didn't even know _why. _Entirely stupid thing to cry over.

"Hey," Danny said softly, his eyes filled with worry. "Hey, it's okay."

He nodded rapidly, swallowing hard, fighting to regain his self control, and Danny sighed and stepped forwards quickly, sweeping him up into a hug, the obvious and overt gesture of affection unusual and wonderful.

"If you're that bothered about it, I'll let _you _choose what we watch," Danny murmured in his ear.

He laughed, and maybe it was a little too sharp and a little too shrill, but Danny seemed to understand.

Was a blissful coupe of moments before he felt the need to step back out of Danny's arms. And he noticed that Danny's nose was twitching.

He grimaced. "Sorry. Not been able to get a shower for a few days." It was the truth, after all. Just not the whole truth.

Danny nodded slowly and that had happened before and he could see Danny running through numerous possible reasons, everything from the water being turned off again to Rusty being too afraid to leave his room.

"Okay," Danny said after a second, smiling briefly. "Let's go home."

He smiled happily at Danny and they walked out of the house, the socially-acceptable distance between them.

They reached Danny's house in silence and he hung back awkwardly in the doorway until Danny glanced back and pulled him inside, his brow creased with worry. But all he said was "You want to take a bath?"

He could feel his face light up. Just the _thought..._"Yes. Please."

Danny didn't seem happy with his desperation. "Okay then. Come on."

He sat on Danny's bed while Danny ran him a bath and this was just so far from where he'd been yesterday and he still felt like he might start crying at any moment.

"Here you go," Danny said, pressing a fluffy towel into his hands. "You want me to – "

" – stay," Rusty interrupted. "Please."

There was acceptance and understanding on Danny's face and he rejoiced in the things he never had to explain.

He stripped off his clothes and behind him he heard Danny swear softly. He guessed there were still some bruises on his back and ribs. "'s healing," he told Danny, and he didn't know if that would really make any difference.

He sank into the bath. Hot water and bubbles up to his neck and he gave a soft moan of appreciation. Oh, this felt so good. He felt like all the pain and worry was just melting away.

A few moments of sheer bliss and he opened his eyes and looked at Danny. "Tell me about Italy?" he requested.

Danny smiled and Rusty lay back and listened as Danny talked about the coffee flavoured gelato in the park and the bellhop who'd spent all his time waxing his moustache in the elevator, and the man selling candy on the street who had chased down the road after a pigeon, wielding a rolled-up-newspaper like it was the sharpest of swords.

At some point he must have fallen asleep.

* * *

Danny couldn't take it anymore. "Why couldn't you just tell me?" he demanded, breathless and anguished and, yes, _angry. _"You just sat there and let me assume..._why, _Rusty?"

Rusty wouldn't look at him and didn't say anything.

"Was it..." He hardly dared ask. "Did you think I'd be ashamed of you? Did you think I'd walk away?"

At that, Rusty looked up sharply. "No!" he said vehemently. Then he sighed. "Maybe...I don't...everything was so confused, Danny. And then you were there and everything was – "

" – everything was not normal," Danny interrupted with low fury. "You were quiet and serious and going along with everything I said and – "

" – I was not _broken,_" Rusty snapped.

He paused. "No," he agreed at last. "But things weren't normal, Rusty. I would have listened. I would have wanted to know."

"I know," Rusty said quietly. "I know that, Danny. I was just frightened."

"Of what?" he pressed.

There was a haunted look in Rusty's eyes. "_Everything._"

* * *

"Wake up," Danny said softly.

He opened his eyes blearily and realised that he was still in the bath. Oh. Good thing that Danny was here. Else he might have drowned. He blinked sleepily up at Danny, standing over him, holding a towel.

"Water's going to get cold soon," Danny went on. "Come on."

Silently he stood up and took the towel, drying himself off. He felt warm and clean and happy and he smiled drowsily at Danny. "Where are my clothes?" he asked, looking round the bathroom. They weren't where he'd left them.

"Put them in the washing machine," Danny explained. "Don't worry – they'll be dry by the time my parents get in. And I've got a t-shirt and a pair of slacks you can wear till then. Should be fine. Long as we don't leave the house."

He nodded, slowly, and clean clothes did sound very nice. Just that, well, shortly after he and Danny had first met, Danny's Mom had started going through Danny's wardrobe on a regular basis, removing everything that was even _slightly _too small for Danny. And they both knew why. Danny's Mom thought he was out for all he could get and she didn't want him to get anything, even if it was just Danny's old clothes.

"She won't know," Danny said again, persuasively, holding out the clothes.

He dressed quickly. Better than being naked, and he smiled at Danny and more than anything he wanted to say thank you.

"I'll go and get us some food," Danny volunteered, heading downstairs.

Rusty sat down on the edge of the bed. He only _meant _to sit down on the edge of the bed. But he was still warm and sleepy and relaxed and he just lay down for a moment.

He woke up, very briefly, when Danny pulled the blanket over him. He fell asleep again as Danny lay down beside him, staying close and watching over him.

He never wanted this feeling to end and he already knew it would.

_He was back in the warehouse, sprawled on the floor at Bossman's feet, and Wolfy's dead body was lying inches from his face, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't stop crying and he couldn't hide it from them. _

"_Aw, poor little chicky," Joe crooned from behind him, stamping on his legs hard. "Is your kitty roadkill?"_

_Bossman leaned down and pulled Rusty up by the hair, gently cradling his chin, turning his face this way and that. "Maybe you could make us some money after all." _

"_No," he whispered._

_Bossman smiled. "Maybe Danny can."_

_He turned his head, almost unwillingly, and Danny was standing there silently, being held by Mack, and Danny's face was bruised and his eyes were wild and Rusty hadn't meant to get Danny mixed up in all of this, he'd _never _meant to get Danny mixed up in all of this, and he tried to apologise but he didn't think Danny could hear him._

"Rusty!"

He was awake in an instant. Listening to Danny.

"It's just a bad dream," Danny told him soothingly. "You're safe. We both are."

Danny's hand was on his cheek and he leaned in to the touch and right there and then it felt like nothing could ever hurt him.

"Go back to sleep," Danny told him and he did.

It was getting dark when he woke up and there was a heavy weight on his chest. He already knew who it was just by the way that he wasn't panicking. When he opened his eyes he saw Danny, sleeping beside him, his arm flung protectively across Rusty's chest. He smiled and carefully wriggled out of Danny's arms.

Danny blinked. "Morning," he muttered.

Rusty glanced at the window. "Doubt it," he told Danny with a grin.

"You're feeling better?" Danny asked, studying him carefully.

"Yeah," he said, thinking about it. Everything felt a little less overwhelming, a little less close to the surface. "What time is it?"

"About nine," Danny told him. "Mom and Dad aren't back yet." He didn't sound surprised. "There's not much in the house to eat – no bread or anything fresh like that – but there's ice cream in the freezer and I found a packet of cookies and a bag of chips."

"Real food," Rusty said with a grin.

"Exactly," Danny nodded. "You want to go watch some TV?"

"Do I still get to pick what we watch?" he asked.

"No, I'm sorry." Danny shook his head gravely. "That was a one time only offer."

Wasn't like it really mattered. The very first channel they tried was showing a movie and after fifteen seconds a tree exploded and they were hooked, slumped happily on the sofa, drinking coca cola and demolishing a carton of double choc chip.

For a long time there wasn't much conversation and he thought both of them were just happy in each other's presence.

But it was getting even darker outside and he didn't have anyplace to go and the words were too heavy for his tongue.

"Danny?" he said, soft and hesitant, turning his head.

"Yeah?" Danny said, looking round.

He hesitated for a couple of seconds. Just that it felt like much longer. "Tell me more about Italy," he said at last, quickly.

Danny looked at him for a long moment and of course he knew that Danny knew that that hadn't been what he wanted to say. But he met Danny's gaze and silently pleaded for Danny not to ask and in the end Danny sighed. "Well, the weather was good. And Mom and Dad dragged me through a whole lot of museums and galleries, when they weren't arguing, but honestly, you'd be amazed at some of the things there. Paintings and sculptures..." He shook his head wonderingly. "You just look at them and it's almost unbelievable that a human being can create stuff like that. And the countryside was really pretty." He smiled suddenly. "Oh, there was this other kid in the hotel. From Philadelphia. He was about my age. Anyway, he was over visiting family and he kept insisting that his uncle was in the Mafia."

Rusty considered that for a moment. "Maybe his uncle _was _in the Mafia. He could've been."

Danny grinned. "His uncle was a dentist."

Oh. Well, he still wasn't going to let it go. "He could have been a dentist _and _in the Mafia. A Mafia dentist."

"Why would the Mafia need dentists?" Danny wondered.

He shrugged. "Maybe they eat a lot of candy bars?"

Danny laughed. "Yeah. Because that's what I think of when I see The Godfather. Lots of candy bars."

He grinned and conceded the point. "So what did you say?"

There was a shrug and a grin that was _just _on the right side of malevolent. "Told him I was a CIA operative and I was going to have to take a note of his uncle's name."

"A CIA operative?" Rusty repeated incredulously.

Danny waved a hand airily. "In training."

Of course. Still grinning, they turned their attention back to the movie.

"Oh, like that's physically possible," Danny said, rolling his eyes as the guy on the screen tumbled backwards off the sofa and sprang straight to his feet.

"No, I think it might be," Rusty commented, squinting at the TV.

As one, they turned their heads and looked thoughtfully at the back of the sofa.

"Me first," he declared eagerly, standing up. He bounced up onto the back of the sofa, while Danny stood back to watch, glancing behind himself thoughtfully. Okay. With a jubilant yell, he launched himself backwards, trying to twist in midair and get his legs under him, ready to spring back to his feet.

A second later and he was sprawled on the floor, looking up at Danny. "That didn't go well," he commented, concentrating on not wincing. That hadn't been especially good for his ribs.

Danny smiled ruefully. "Told you it wasn't possible."

And yet Danny was going to try it anyway. He got to his feet, his arm pressed against his chest discreetly and he stood to the side of the room and watched with interest as Danny jumped up onto the sofa.

"You sure you don't want a helmet?" he asked brightly.

"Quiet," Danny said with dignity. "I must focus."

"Uh huh." He watched as Danny jumped wildly over the back of the sofa and he almost had to close his eyes as Danny tried to somersault, failed, and crashed, legs flailing, into the end table, sending a large glass bowl of petunias flying.

"You okay?" He asked at once, as Danny sat up groggily.

"Yeah...it's not possible." He glanced down at the smashed bowl and the forlorn petunias and grimaced. "Oops." He scrambled to his feet. "I'll go get something to clean that up."

He shook his head, looking down at the mess. Yeah. They shouldn't have tried that. He glanced back at the TV and now on the movie, the hero was dangling over an elevator shaft on an almost invisible wire. Mmm. Just as well they hadn't watched far enough to try that.

He heard a noise in the doorway and turned to smile at Danny.

He found himself looking at Danny's Mom.

The smile faded immediately.

She was staring at him and staring at the mess on the floor. "Is that my bowl?" she demanded angrily.

"Yes, ma'am," he said softly, fighting not to take a couple of steps backwards.

Her eyes were focused on him now, glaring, hating. "Did you do this, Robert?"

"Yes," he said immediately. It had to be him. Not Danny. Never Danny. "I'm sorry," he added, already knowing that it wouldn't do any good. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to."

She strode towards him, fury on her face, and he couldn't help but flinch away this time, and just because she'd never hit him before didn't mean that she wouldn't now, she was angry enough, and thank God Danny was in the other room.

He waited and she stopped just short of him, her fists clenched, close to his face, and he stared, watching her hands, bracing himself. "How dare you come into my house and break things like that? Acting like a wild animal – you have no place in decent people's lives, Robert. Why you're not ashamed of yourself I'll never know. I've been too soft of you so far. You should be – "

" – Mom!" Danny was standing in the kitchen doorway now, staring at her, the dustpan and brush forgotten in his hand.

She stood up straight, smoothing her skirt down, stepping away from Rusty. "Your little friend is just leaving, Daniel. It seems as though he can't be trusted in civilised people's homes."

"What?" Danny's voice was hurt and incredulous.

"He broke my bowl," Danny's Mom said.

Danny frowned. "I broke it. It was an accident and I'm sorry, but it was me."

She rolled her eyes. "It's no use trying to cover-up for him this time, Daniel. He's already admitted it."

The hurt look was turned on him and they both knew he'd lied. But it _had _to be him. He silently pleaded with Danny to understand; parents couldn't be trusted. They could turn on you, they could hurt you, throw you out into the cold and the dark and the danger, and he didn't want that for Danny, he wanted Danny to be safe.

Danny didn't look like he understood at all.

"'s okay, Danny. I'll just go," he said softly.

"You do that," Danny's Mom snapped. "And I don't want to see you hanging around here again."

She'd forget that in a few weeks, he knew that. But he didn't know where he'd be in a few weeks.

"I'll see you tomorrow at Mabel's," Danny whispered, as they headed out into the hall, Danny's Mom following them, and he noticed that there was absolutely no offer to give him a run home this time.

"I can't go back to Mabel's," he whispered back quickly. "The fountain."

Danny nodded quickly, and he was still looking hurt and just a little bit angry, and Rusty knew they were going to be talking about this tomorrow.

One more thing he didn't want to talk to Danny about.

* * *

Danny was still angry. Even though he was trying not to be. "You just walked out and went to sleep in some doorway somewhere? You didn't even try to tell me?"

"Your Mom would never have let me," Rusty argued, and that wasn't the point.

"I would have argued," he said, and he'd managed to get his own way before, and he would have _tried._ "Or we could have smuggled you upstairs. I would have done something."

"Right." Rusty was glaring. "And the next day? And the day after that? I thought it was going to be forever, Danny. I thought Dad wasn't coming back. I thought he'd left me." Rusty's voice broke on the last two words, but he caught himself before Danny could say anything. "We couldn't have gone on like that, Danny. Not forever. And you would have wanted to do something, and maybe I'd have ended up going to the police and into care, and I know it's not that bad _now_ but I didn't know anything back then and I was _scared."_

"I would have wanted to know," Danny said softly, and everything came back to that. "I would've done something."

Rusty smiled sadly. "And if you couldn't have done anything?"

He was about to give the immediate answer, the answer that he knew in his heart, but he stopped himself in time.

Rusty had heard it anyway. "It was bad, Danny. Living on the streets is...I don't want that for you."

"You have to let me make my own decisions," Danny said quietly, but he could understand where Rusty was coming from.

* * *

Dad still wasn't back. He sighed and walked away from the door and wondered what he was going to do now. The sleep he'd got at Danny's had left him rested and he didn't particularly want to go to sleep, but it was Saturday night and the streets were full of drunks, shouting and singing.

He headed out at random, ducking through streets, and a group of men carrying bottles caught sight of him, reaching out and trying to grab him.

"Hey, kid, come here!"

"Right, have a drink!"

"It'll put hairs on your chest!"

Heart pounding, he managed to wriggle free and run, and they were laughing behind him, and he bumped into another group of people who were yelling and angry at him, and he ran and ran until finally he was hiding in a doorway, somewhere downtown, near the station, breathing fast and ragged.

(_He wanted to go home)_

He didn't sleep much that night. In fact, he spent his time scuttling from doorway to doorway, mired in seemingly inescapable fear.

Nothing felt safe. Nowhere felt safe. Every time he sat down, every time he shut his eyes, even for a moment, he found himself tensed to run, terrified that when he opened his eyes there was going to be someone right there, waiting for him.

It was irrational, he knew that. Just that knowing didn't stop the fear.

He drifted down near the station, not even knowing where he was going and he saw Candy on the other side of the street, on the corner of the block, her skirt hiked up and her face still bruised. He stared and she looked up suddenly, looking across the road. Their eyes met and he saw the recognition dawn.

She laughed and reached back into the shadows and grabbed Al's arm, pointing at Rusty, and Rusty saw Al's eyes widen, and he didn't know what was going to happen, didn't know if Al was going to come after him, hurt him.

He didn't wait around to find out.

He was already running back the way he came, imagining them chasing him, and he ducked down a side street, scrambled over a wall and hid on the edge of a playground, not daring to breathe, not daring to make a sound.

No matter how he tried, he couldn't hear anything. He shivered. Maybe there was nothing to hear. Or, maybe they were sneaking up on him.

For the longest moment he stayed absolutely still. Waited. But there was nothing. He sighed. His feet hurt. Actually, everything kind of hurt. But he thought he was safe for the moment.

He hadn't told Danny. Not any of the things that Danny would want to know. That Danny maybe _deserved_ to know. And that meant that he couldn't tell Danny tomorrow because the question would be why he hadn't told Danny before, and that meant he couldn't _ever _tell Danny.

And tomorrow he'd have to meet Danny and act like everything was fine which was pretty much impossible. Wasn't like that had worked out so well today. Danny had _known _there was something wrong just by looking at him. Something more than usual, that was.

He didn't know how long he could keep this secret from Danny.

But he couldn't tell him.

And he couldn't think of anything he could say to Danny that wouldn't immediately hurt both of them.

He didn't know what to do.

When dawn came he was huddled under the climbing frame. He'd managed to doze for a few hours and was feeling...not _refreshed _exactly but certainly capable of surviving the day.

Survival. That was about all he felt capable of right now. He got himself cleaned up to the best of his ability, found himself a shop that was open early and stole himself some breakfast.

Good thing about shoplifting, he thought as he loitered in the candy aisle and chocolate bars vanished up his sleeve, was that it didn't involve any contact with actual people. Right now that was something he just felt like avoiding.

He made a point of gazing disappointedly at a random gap in the shelves – apparently the shop was out of the fish food he was after – and he nodded to the clerk and ducked out the door.

Chocolate for breakfast. Who said that crime didn't pay?

Dad wasn't back. He wondered how long it would be before the landlord formally evicted them and threw all their stuff out into the street. Actually, maybe Dad would have taken their stuff with them. Though if Dad had taken his own stuff, he still would have left Rusty's, surely. Huh. Maybe if they did get evicted he might be able to pick up some of his things. Just being practical, a couple of changes of clothing and his schoolbag to carry them in would be pretty attractive right now. Something to look out for anyway.

After that he headed round to the fountain to wait for Danny, careful to sit on the side away from the police station, just in case.

He needed to start thinking long term. Needed to start thinking about where he was going to go and how he was going to live. Really, he couldn't stay here forever. But he'd never been anywhere. There was nothing to base that decision on.

He sat and waited and worried about what he was going to say to Danny. How could he possibly keep this secret?

It was late morning by the time Danny finally appeared, looking furious. For a moment, Rusty was alarmed, but Danny got closer and it wasn't about his lie to Danny's Mom last night. Wasn't aimed at him at all, in fact.

He smiled, just because Danny was Danny and here, and his eyes were already asking the question, showing the worry before Danny got in earshot.

"Mom caught me sneaking out," Danny said shortly. "Guessed where I was going. Had a few things to say about it." His fists were clenched and his mouth was twisted with anger and disgust.

Rusty blinked anxiously, wondering how Danny had managed to get here.

Danny shrugged. "Just walked out. She couldn't stop me." He must have seen something in Rusty's eyes because he added incredulously. "You honestly expecting me to just stand there and let her insult you?"

Yes. Yes, Danny should, because what if Danny went home and his parents weren't there anymore? Some battles they couldn't win. (_Most battles they couldn't win?_)

Frowning, Danny asked. "Since when did you admit defeat?"

He wasn't quite sure.

Danny sighed, running his hand through his hair, and he sat down heavily on the fountain beside Rusty, their shoulders accidentally brushing together. "It's okay, Rusty, really. Grandma's coming over this afternoon, so by the time I get back Mom'll be too mad at Grandma to remember she's supposed to be mad at me."

He breathed a sigh of relief, happy that Danny knew what he was doing.

"I would have done it _anyway,_" Danny told him in an undertone. Then he smiled brightly. "You hungry?" He waved a hand before Rusty could answer. "Yeah, yeah, stupid question. I want some lunch and I'm broke. Or, at least, all my money is lira. Dad said he'd change it back for me but," he shrugged. "Guess it might take a while. You got cash?"

He grimaced. Hadn't exactly been a good week as far as money was concerned.

"Yeah," Danny nodded. "I guess we'd best get some first."

He glanced around and it was Sunday and the streets were fairly empty.

"Park?" Danny suggested. "Everyone goes to the park on Sunday. Think it's a rule or something."

Sounded good to him. Smiling, he sprang to his feet and prepared to lead the way.

"By the way," Danny added casually. "You know you're not talking, right?"

He turned back and stared and he opened his mouth to object. Then he sighed and shrugged. Yeah.

"'s okay," Danny told him. "Just wanted to make sure you'd noticed."

He nodded and he knew from experience that Danny would let it go today. Wouldn't be till tomorrow that he started getting insistent.

It would make it a lot easier not to tell Danny anyway.

He pretended he hadn't thought that.

* * *

Danny hated it when Rusty stopped talking. Not that it had happened for a long time now...actually that had been the last time, back nearly two years ago, and he hadn't known the reasons but he'd been frightened nonetheless.

It had been commonplace in the months after Rusty's Mom had left. Quiet Days when Rusty would only talk to Danny and Silent Days when Rusty wouldn't talk at all. And every time Danny had been careful to keep fear buried, to treat it all like it was nothing out of the ordinary, giving Rusty the feeling of control he needed.

But that time it had been hiding something else. He should have _insisted. _Should have _made _Rusty tell him.

"Hey," Rusty's voice was fierce. "Don't you _dare_ blame yourself for this."

He laughed slightly and leaned his head against the wall. Above them, the dawn light was creeping in the window. At last.

"You didn't want to tell me anything," he said quietly, and when Rusty opened his mouth to explain, to apologise, he held up his hand. "No! It's just – why did you tell me now?"

"I told you over a year ago," Rusty said softly and Danny remembered darkness and bruises and being on the streets when they should have been safe.

He nodded. "Not all of it though."

"I don't like to remember," Rusty said. He sighed. "I don't _want _to remember."

Danny squeezed Rusty's fingers tightly and there was nothing he could say.

"It was when you told me..." Rusty closed his eyes. "I want you to trust me for the right reasons. I want to deserve your trust."

Danny found himself smiling. "You always do. Idiot."

* * *

It was a lovely, sunny day and the park was crowded and bustling. Perfect. Just perfect. The day became a game.

The loud woman with the implausible sunglasses who swore at the kids playing soccer, and they were cowboys, lurking in the bushes, barely brushing past her and her purse fell open in Danny's hands.

The older man walking along with his copy of 'Barely Legal' clearly visible inside his paper, and they'd found an abandoned baseball and they threw it from one to the other, running along the path and a long throw, a missed catch, and he stumbled into the man and the man's wallet was in his pocket.

The well-dressed man shouting at the ice cream vendor because the prices were too high, and they dropped a stolen quarter on the path a little way behind him, and the wallet in his back pocket was unmissable when he bent over.

It wasn't all about survival.

"You know," Danny said, as they walked away from the hotdog stand and Rusty tried to find a way of eating the hotdog that wouldn't get ketchup everywhere. "There was this sign in the airport. Right in the middle of the baggage collection bit. Said 'Caution, thieves are operating in this area.' You know what everyone did the moment they saw the sign?"

Checked for their valuables. Showing any would-be-pickpockets in the area exactly where they were. He grinned.

"Right." Danny grinned back. "Wish the police round here would be that obliging."

He frowned thoughtfully; maybe they didn't need to wait for the police.

"Make our own sign, you mean?" Danny pondered between mouthfuls. "Huh. Could work. We'd need to save it for special occasions though."

Right. Try that too often and someone would catch on.

(_They were making plans for the future and he didn't know if he was going to have a future._)

Suddenly, he really kinda wanted to change the subject. He glanced sideways at Danny, wondering if he'd taken advantage of the sign in the airport.

Danny sighed. "Yeah. Shouldn't have, but yeah. Dad had spent the whole flight smiling at the stewardess, and Mom wouldn't stop complaining, so I was off by myself for a bit. And there was this woman dragging her daughter along. The kid must have been about your age but much younger. And she was going on at her. All the usual stuff, you know 'Why are you so selfish, why do you have to embarrass me all the time, why can't you just be normal'...all of that."

So Danny had taken her wallet and that was understandable. Stupid, but understandable. Wouldn't make any of the difference that mattered; giving the mother something else to be angry about wasn't going to help the kid any. Quite the opposite, actually.

"I _know _that," Danny said quietly. "Gave the wallet back. Dropped it in the trolley when they weren't looking. I just wish I could have done something."

Of course he did. Rusty smiled; that was one of the things that made Danny everything he was.

"You want to go see a movie?" Danny suggested after a moment, when the hotdogs were finished. "That new one, 'Logan's Run' is out. Trailers look good. And maybe afterwards we could try sneaking into 'The Omen' again."

Mmm. Without getting caught this time.

"Exactly," Danny agreed.

They walked to the movie theatre. Rusty hadn't expected it to be difficult; it took him by surprise. But there was the trashcan and there was the alley, and there, that spot on the road _there..._

He stood frozen, not able to keep walking, not able to do _anything. _In his mind he could still see Wolfy lying there, twisted and dead.

"Rus'!" Danny's hand was on his arm and Danny was looking at him anxiously.

He nodded, jerkily, promising he was okay, and they walked on up to the theatre.

The movies were good. Both of them. Movies and popcorn and Danny and it was a good day.

By the time they got out it was dark. Danny looked at him awkwardly. "I need to – "

Yeah. Pretty soon, Danny's Mom would miss him. And the last thing Rusty wanted was to give her any more reason to be mad at Danny.

"Rus'," Danny said, soft and anxious. "Your Dad..." He trailed off.

Right. Danny knew things were bad right now and there was one obvious conclusion to draw.

He shrugged, conveying absolutely nothing and Danny sighed exasperatedly.

Rusty glanced towards the road and the bus that would take Danny practically to his door that was just coming along the street.

"Come home with me," Danny said suddenly. "Please."

He shook his head quickly. Too risky. Danny's Mom would object, and leaving alone what that might mean for Danny – the worst of consequences – at best she might just decide to drive Rusty home and have another little chat with his father. And that would just unravel everything.

Danny stared at him for a long moment, and they'd had this conversation before, often before, and sometimes Danny could win and sometimes – like now – Danny would lose.

"Be safe," Danny whispered as the bus pulled up.

Rusty offered a grin of absolute confidence and no conceivable doubt and Danny didn't look like he believed it for a second.

"Goodnight, Danny," he said when Danny was on the step. "I'll see you tomorrow." And Danny turned back and smiled.

He watched the bus until it was out of sight and sometimes he hated the way he missed Danny. Wasn't like it was possible for them to spend their entire lives in each other's company. He should listen to Dad; he needed to toughen up.

Okay. He sighed. Had to figure out what he was going to do next. He glanced back at the alley. Almost tempting – it had felt safe and comfortable. But he didn't think he'd be able to bear it without Wolfy. Unwillingly, he looked back at the spot on the road and he bit his lip hard. He could still _see_...

With an effort, he turned away.

Besides. If he wanted a more practical reason, a reason that didn't make him feel like a sissy, Joe and Mack had found him here. He couldn't be certain that they weren't around and he couldn't be certain that any of their friends might not be hanging around here.

He wanted some food and, automatically, he started walking towards Mabel's. Almost immediately he stopped, cursing himself. Not an option. There was another diner though, not that far away. They'd been there once or twice when they were cutting school for one reason or another, or when he'd felt like his bruises were just too obvious for Mabel to believe any excuses. He headed there.

Least he had money, now. They'd split the money from the park fifty fifty, like they always did, in spite of Danny trying to argue that Rusty needed it more. Still. He should probably try to save his money as much as possible. It was always possible he wouldn't be able to get more; things happened. On the other hand, just because maybe Mack and Joe weren't around any more didn't mean that no one else would turn up, ready to take what they could.

See, that was logic. And had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that the smell of fries was driving him crazy.

He didn't _need _that much food. He'd already eaten today and he needed to start thinking long term and best means of survival, not about salt and grease and ketchup. If he was going to leave town, he'd need money. Few more days like this one and he could start thinking about the bus station downtown. So, he didn't know anywhere, but he figured that Greyhounds went everywhere. One big town was as good as another. He'd see where the buses go and take his pick. Somewhere he could hide, somewhere no one knew him...And that was all very well, but he was hungry _now._

He compromised. Bought a child sized portion and ate it slowly in the furthest corner of the diner, lingering until the diner was closing and the bored-looking owner chased him outside.

It was darker now. Late. Sunday night and the streets were quieter at least. Time to find someplace safe to hide and rest up. Yeah. Like there was anyplace safe.

Still, he was pretty used to it by now and he skirted round the most deserted streets until he found a little underpass, way off the main roads, down below the parking lot, leading towards a bunch of tower blocks. There was graffiti on the walls and broken glass on the ground, but none of it looked especially recent. Mmm. Should do for tonight. Probably it wasn't such a good idea to stay in the same place for longer than that anyway.

He lay down against the wall, his arms over his head and waited for sleep. God, he hoped Danny had got home safe. Hoped Danny had been right and that his Mom had forgotten all about everything. Wouldn't be the first time. And he knew, or was almost certain he knew, that Danny's parents were unlikely to abandon him. But it wasn't _impossible. _And the thought of Danny forced to live like this...it was unbearable. Danny didn't deserve this. Neither did _he_, but it was much easier not to think like that.

What was more likely than Danny being thrown out, however was Danny finding out his secret and choosing to run away to be with him. Especially if he decided to skip town. Danny would want to come too, and Rusty couldn't let that happen. It wouldn't be an adventure and it wouldn't be fun and it wouldn't be safe. And it would ruin Danny's life. Danny had a bright future ahead of him, anyone could see that. Everyone could see that, in fact, except Danny's parents. Rusty wasn't going to let him throw it away.

But he didn't know how to leave Danny behind.

Unless...unless he just _left. _Unless he didn't say goodbye.

Wide-eyed, he actually considered it for a moment. No. No, he couldn't. That was just cruel. That would break Danny's heart and Danny would never understand.

And that meant he had to tell Danny the truth. And he still didn't know how. Didn't know how Danny would react, except that he thought that maybe Danny would insist he needed help. Even more than when it was just Dad smacking him around a little. He imagined sitting in some room somewhere, telling strangers all his secrets, watching them stare at him, watching them judge him, and he shivered. He didn't know _how _he'd get through that.

He just wanted to be alone. Was that too much to ask?

(_It was a lie, anyway._)

He played through the conversation in his head until he fell asleep.

* * *

Danny's arm was over Rusty's shoulder, his head was turned and his face was pressed against Rusty's hair.

It helped, oddly, to think that Rusty had been going to tell him. Even more to know that Rusty had never considered just leaving him behind.

Mostly, it just helped that Rusty was here with him now.

It had been over a year ago that he'd sat beside Rusty in that room, somewhere, listening to Rusty share his secrets with blank-faced professionals. Nine months after Rusty had been on the streets, so afraid of telling and being judged, and not so much had changed in that nine months. Rusty had still been terrified. Uncomfortable. And his voice had been as steady as could be, and Danny had been so proud of him.

Some days, when he saw Rusty beaten down and he remembered Rusty telling him about trees and food and kindness, he wished that Rusty had stayed.

Some days, when the world was shining, and life was fun and games and laughter, he could never regret that Rusty had left.

Some days he knew that he'd never have survived without Rusty anyway.

* * *

He must have been tired.

Too tired.

Far too tired, in fact, because he didn't wake up in time, not nearly in time, not until there were rough hands on his body and an overpowering smell of alcohol and rotting food.

Instantly awake, instantly panicking, his eyes snapped open and he was struggling, kicking, fighting before he even knew what was going on, and the next thing there was a heavy hand on his chest, pinning him down to the concrete.

There was a man staring down at him, hair matted, eyes wild, a boil on the side of his nose that looked like it was melting...he was like something out of a horror movie and the hand on his chest was hurting and the other hand was patting him down and Rusty fought the urge to scream.

"Where is it?" the man demanded hoarsely and his breath was hot on Rusty's face. "I know you have it. You stole it. Who sent you?"

Oh, God, he was talking like Mom did when she was really strung out and that meant that there was no right answer, no hope he'd be able to talk his way out of this. But he couldn't get free no matter how he tried, and that only left words. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir," he said desperately, reasonably. "I don't have anything."

The man scratched his nails across Rusty's face hard. "Liar! You took my stash."

"No," he objected, struggling some more. "I just got here. I don't know anything about it."

With unexpected strength, the man dragged him to his feet, shaking him roughly, and his head hit against the wall and he bit his tongue and tasted blood. "Where is it?" the man demanded again.

"You got the wrong person," he said, pleaded, and the man punched him hard in the face, and he was dazed, slumped backwards, and he felt the man's hands digging deep into his jeans pocket.

He blinked and he could do nothing but watch, feel, as the man rooted through his pockets and came up with all the cash he'd stolen yesterday. "That's mine," he said stupidly, and the man punched him again.

Falling heavily to the ground, he was only _just _aware of the man shuffling off, clutching the money, making pleased-sounding noises.

Oh.

He lay perfectly still, shaking and sore, and here he was, right back where he started. Homeless and penniless and hurting. For some reason that struck him as unbelievably funny, and he started to laugh and it _hurt _and he barely noticed when the laughter turned to dry, aching sobs.

* * *

"Bad things happen, Danny," Rusty said, and his head was resting on Danny's shoulder now. "Bad things happen and sometimes there's nothing to be done about it."

Danny, shaking with unholy horror and absolute anger, said nothing. Speech was beyond him right now. All he could do was hold Rusty close.

"Besides," Rusty added vacantly. "I was lucky."

_Lucky? _Danny shuddered.

Rusty's eyes flickered up to him. "Could have been a lot worse." He looked away again. "For a moment I thought it was," he admitted, so softly that Danny wasn't absolutely certain that he was meant to hear it.

"Rus'..." Still words failed him.

"And I should've known better than to keep all my money in the same place, anyway," Rusty said firmly. "Stupid of me. After Mack and Joe, you'd think I'd _learn._"

Danny stared at him for a long moment. Then he leant over and softly kissed his forehead. "Bad things happen," he agreed quietly. "And that doesn't make them okay."

* * *

Took a while before he managed to drag himself to his feet. Breathing was difficult, and his ribs hadn't really healed before. Seemed like this had just been a little more damage.

The world was spinning and he leaned against the wall, his forehead pressed to cool concrete.

He needed to get out of here. Needed somewhere safe.

For a moment, he imagined going to Danny's house. Indulged himself in a fantasyworld where he knocked and Danny was the only one there, despite it being the middle of the night, and Danny took him inside and took care of him and made everything better just by being Danny.

No. He'd done that once before and he'd been_ unbelievably _lucky not to get caught by Danny's parents. Couldn't risk it. Couldn't get them both in trouble.

But he had to get out of here. The man might come back, might want something else from him.

He stumbled out of the underpass and the dawn was breaking and he had to get away, had to.

By the time he got back onto the main streets, they were filling up with people on their way to work. He caught the disturbed looks that came his way; he must look a sight. Right now he just didn't care, and he swerved to avoid them as much as he could, trying to keep out of arms length of the whole world.

Stupid, childish tears were pouring down his face and he wiped them away angrily with his t-shirt. He had to get off the streets and he had to calm down, because right now he was drawing attention to himself and attention was very, very bad.

The playpark was empty at this time of day, and that was good. He sat on a swing. Kid on a swing. No one would find that odd. No one would come near him. He hoped. He wished. He _needed_.

He was still half expecting the man to appear, to come after him. He could still feel the man's breath on his face, still feel his hands.

He wouldn't ever forget.

Once upon a time, three years ago when he was very young, he'd asked Danny to teach him how to forget. For a moment he'd thought that Danny would cry.

Danny. He pushed the feeling of the man's hands to the back of his mind and he remembered Danny holding him. Two days ago in the abandoned house when Danny had been all that was holding him together. Danny, holding him because he was hurting and Danny wanted to make it better.

That was what he wanted to remember. He wouldn't ever forget that either.

Eventually, he felt a little calmer. Calm enough to head back towards Dad's apartment. Maybe they'd have been evicted by now. Maybe his stuff would be out on the stairs and he'd be able to get some nice, clean clothes before he met Danny.

There was nothing in the hall.

The paper was gone from the door jamb.

He stared for a long moment, his head was pounding and his thoughts were dull.

Then, with trembling hands, he reached out and tried the door.

It opened.

Quietly, not sure what to think, not sure what to expect, he crept inside.

Dad was standing in the middle of the living room, squinting at a wad of notes in his hands. He looked up at Rusty. "Back, are you?"

Rusty stared at him and nodded mutely. This was impossible. This was a dream.

"You did good staying away all week," Dad remarked conversationally, stuffing the money into his back pocket. "Wouldn't have thought you capable."

He was dreaming. He _was. _He was dreaming, and any moment he was going to wake up, back in the underpass with the man leaning over him.

Dad looked at him sharply. "What's the matter? Forgotten how to talk again?" He laughed a little at his own joke. "Fuck, you're scrawnier than ever. And what happened to your face? Your fancy friend's parents get bored of having you around all the time? Bet you deserved it, didn't you?"

He nodded out of habit, knowing what would satisfy. He couldn't stop staring at Dad, convinced that he was going to disappear any moment now. Carefully, shyly, his legs trembling, he crossed the living room and reached out a hand, convinced that this, at least, would dissolve the mirage.

The arm was solid and warm and very, very real.

"What the fuck?" Dad sounded disbelieving.

He gave a soft, startled little cry and then his hands were gripping the back of Dad's shirt and his arms were wrapped around Dad's waist, his head almost touching Dad's chest, and in his mind he was promising that he'd be better, that he'd be whatever Dad wanted him to be, if only Dad wouldn't throw him away again.

The vicious backhand punch was enough to send him to the floor and bring him to his senses. "Don't touch me, you little bastard!"

He blinked up at Dad through a haze of blood, and even with the pain, he was still smiling, still grateful. Dad hadn't left him... "Sorry," he said, and "Thank you," and he meant it.

Dad snorted. "Should think so. Pathetic little sissy," he muttered. "Fuck, why couldn't you be a real man? Anyone would be ashamed to call you son." He pulled a bill out of his pocket and flung it at Rusty contemptuously. "Go get some food. There's nothing in the cupboards. And don't you even fucking _think _of spending it on candy or you won't be able to sit down for a month."

He punctuated his orders with a savage kick to Rusty's stomach.

Rusty found he didn't much care. He was home.

* * *

Rusty being that close to his Dad. Rusty actually voluntarily _touching _his Dad, _hugging _him even. Just the thought of it made Danny shudder. It was wrong and it hurt. Rusty's Dad didn't deserve him. Nowhere close. And he understood - could feel - how happy Rusty had been that his Dad came back, that he still had a home, and Danny wanted there to be things that Rusty could take for granted. The basics in life; he shouldn't have to be grateful for them.

His grip tightened around Rusty's shoulder.

(_One day._)

* * *

He met Danny at the fountain and Danny was already there, waiting for him. He stood up when he saw Rusty, his eyes hard when he took in the new bruises and the wad of bloodied tissues that Rusty was still holding to his nose.

"Bastard," Danny muttered, soft fury in his voice.

Rusty shrugged. Because, yes, he knew, but there was something to be said for the devil he knew.

Danny looked at him sharply. "What?"

He grinned, helplessly. "It's a good day," he explained, and Danny didn't understand at all.

* * *

Rusty had finally stopped talking and Danny held him close and said nothing.

There was no anger any more. There was just understanding and acceptance and the promise of _never again. _

He wouldn't ever let that happen to Rusty again.

"I'm never going to let it happen to you at all," Rusty told him and there was the same determination and the same promise.

He smiled. "We're better together."

"In all kinds of weather," Rusty agreed, his smile bright and answering.

If they were together they could survive everything. They'd survived tonight and they'd told each other the very worst, and they were together and they would _live. _

They sat together, in silence and in sunshine, holding hands until they heard the sound of doors opening somewhere below them.

At last. At long last.

Quickly, silently, they looked round the outer office, making sure that they were leaving absolutely no trace of themselves. Everything was fine.

As one they crept into the inner office, and Danny laid the stuffed otter artistically below the break panel. He smiled at Rusty and laid his hand against the glass in preparation.

Rusty shook his head quickly, and there were footsteps coming along the corridor, and Rusty pushed a long wooden ruler into his hand.

Right. Something to break the glass with that wouldn't bleed. He nodded his understanding.

They were tense and silent as the key turned in the lock. Let this work, Danny prayed in his head. Please, please let this work. Because the alternatives were unspeakable.

They waited as the footsteps crossed the office. Waited until the jangle of metal spoke of keys being laid down. Then they waited two seconds more.

Rusty nodded. Danny pushed the ruler firmly.

There was an unholy wailing, the fire alarm screaming, and Rusty was holding his t-shirt out, catching all the bits of falling glass, and Danny was listening to the muffled exclamation from the next room, the sound of rushing footsteps.

He held his breath.

The footsteps were heading away.

Quickly, Rusty shook the glass off his t-shirt, letting it fall over, around and even underneath the otter. Danny headed for the door, trying to listen above the screeching alarm. He thought it was clear.

He nodded back to Rusty and they moved quickly.

The outer office was deserted and, miracle of miracles, the door was open. Rusty was staring at it like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever seen in his life and Danny wasn't exactly disagreeing.

"Come on," he hissed, and he grabbed Rusty's hand. They hurried through the corridor, heading away from the main stairs, into the art department, down and out the back entrance.

They didn't see anyone.

They didn't see anyone and, the alarm still blaring behind them, they were out of the building and out of the grounds and breathing fresh air and _free. _

He turned to Rusty and he was laughing wildly, sheer, dizzying exultation. "We did it!"

Rusty was laughing too. "Uh huh. Won't Gina be pleased."

Oh, yeah. The detention. He'd forgotten that. "We can tell it's all sorted later," he said dismissively.

"Just think," Rusty said, glancing back at the school over his shoulder. "In an hour's time, we need to go back there."

Uh huh. That brought him up short. Somehow, that very much wasn't in his plans for the day. "Mom will have gone by now," he suggested instead. "And I have ice cream."

"Done," Rusty said promptly, and his eyes were shining as he looked at Danny and there was everything in there that Danny could ever want to see.

He was laughing again for no reason at all and right now he felt invincible.

They would skip school today. There were always excuses that could be made, notes that could be forged. Today, right now, maybe _forever_, all that mattered was that time was precious and fleeting and he wanted to spend every last moment with Rusty.

* * *

**A/N: And that, at long, long, long last, is the end of that chapter. I really hoped you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.**


	29. And we won't get it back when we die

**A/N: Yes, another chapter of this very quickly! Unlikely though that is.I wrote this somewhere in the middle of writing the last, mammoth chapter.  
**

**A/N2: Title is taken from a Bowling For Soup song, 'When we die'. The whole relevant line would be "As long as we live time passes by/And we won't get it back when we die."And this is set less than two months before Danny's Dad dies.  
**

**Timeline**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**17. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**18. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**19. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**20. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**22. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**23. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

* * *

Danny left his Dad's with the conviction that there had to have been something more he could do. Something more he could have been. Something that could have made a difference.

On the first night, he followed his dad into the flat, clutching his bag tightly.

"Well, this is it." Dad's voice was nervous. "Come on in." He followed silently as Dad led him into the living room. "It's a little small, maybe," Dad added, looking round the living room. "Not like the house. But we . . .but _I_ . . . like to think of it as cosy."

Danny glanced at the dark mahogany furniture, the polished wooden floors, the bookcase filled with colour-coordinated leather-bound books, the rug with the geometric patterns. Cosy wasn't the word he'd use, he thought. "It's nice," he offered politely.

Dad smiled. "Good. That's good. I want you to feel comfortable here, Danny. I don't want you to feel like a guest."

Danny just nodded. "Where can I put my stuff?"

"Oh." Dad frowned. "Just stick it over by the wall there for now, I guess. You'll be sleeping on the sofa. I'm afraid there's no guest bedroom."

He was almost certain that Dad didn't notice the infinitesimal pause. He was almost certain that he'd managed to hide the moment of hurt. "Okay, thanks."

"Can I get you anything?" Dad was twisting his hands together. "Soda? Water? I think we've got some orange juice. Coffee . . . you drink coffee, right?"

"Coffee would be great," he nodded. "Thanks."

"Good. Good." Dad disappeared through a door that presumably led to the kitchen. Danny dropped his bag in the corner, took his jacket off and laid it down on top of his bag, carefully.

He sat on the edge of the sofa and waited.

After a couple of minutes, Dad stuck his head back round the doorway. "How do you take it?"

"Cream, no sugar," he answered. "Thanks."

Coffee made, he at least had something to do with his hands while they sat opposite each other in awkward silence. This should be easier than it was. Somehow, this should be simple.

"It's good to see you, Danny," Dad said, at last.

"You too," Danny agreed.

"I mean, I know it's been a couple of weeks," Dad went on, "and I'm sorry about that."

It had been eleven. Eleven weeks and three days. And it hurt that he knew that. There'd been a meeting with the principal, and his parents and Rusty's dad about the food fight he and Rusty had started in the canteen. They'd had to. At the time it had seemed they had to. They'd promised a distraction to let Ami sneak out, and it had worked, except when they were suddenly the ones in trouble. There'd been a lecture, their parents had been called, and they'd sat outside the office, listening to the shouting and he'd looked at Rusty and he'd thought about just grabbing him and running and never looking back. They hadn't. They'd waited and eventually they'd been called back inside and they'd stared at the floor and tried not to let the words touch them. That was the last time he saw his Dad, and the only thing he'd heard had been how disappointed Dad was in him.

"It's okay," he said, reassuringly.

"I've been busy these last few weeks," Ddad went on, defensively.

He'd been busy for as long as Danny could remember. "It's okay," he repeated. "Really it is. I understand."

Dad sighed. "There's been a lot on at work. It'll be better in a few months, I promise."

"What's going on at work?" Danny asked.

"Oh, it's complicated." Dad waved a hand dismissively. "You wouldn't understand."

There was the sound of the front door opening, and Dad looked up with the first genuine smile Danny had seen on his face all day. "That'll be Emma." He hesitated. "I, uh, gave her a key so that she could let herself in when I'm not here."

Danny nodded and said nothing and tried not to listen as his Dad went out into the hall and kissed Emma hello.

Emma swept into the room and smiled at him happily. "Danny! It's lovely to see you again!"

He stood up and uncomfortably allowed her to hug him and kiss his cheek. "Hi, Emma," he smiled, politely.

"You know, I think you've grown since the last time I saw you. And you're certainly growing into a handsome young man. You're going to be just like your Dad."

It took an effort to keep the smile in place. But he managed it. Of course. "Thank you," he said, and discreetly took a step backwards.

She turned to his Dad and started telling him about her day, and Danny sat back down on the sofa and practised being invisible.

Eventually they remembered him again and Dad turned the conversation to school, and his latest grades, and whether he was trying as hard as he could be, and whether he might want to reconsider taking part in a few extracurricular activities, because college applications were just around the corner, and really, they were looking for more than just good test scores, and with the occasional black mark on his record, really, he wanted to have as much going for him as possible, because he needed to get into a good college with a good business program if he wanted to get anywhere in life.

Danny nodded and offered quiet noises of understanding and agreement, and it only hurt a very little.

Emma suggested that the youth theatre group, that a friend of her mother's helped run, would be just perfect for him. They were doing 'Our Town', though they'd had to cut a couple of bits out, as they were inappropriate.

He had to explain that he wasn't a very good actor and just because Rusty wasn't there, didn't mean he couldn't see the smirk.

Dinner was take out, and he sat at the kitchen table, and picked at his food, and listened to Dad and Emma make small talk. And they made an effort to include him and he made such an effort to be polite, to be positive, to be what his dad had always wanted him to be. From time to time Dad smiled at him. From time to time he looked almost approving.

After dinner they watched the news and Dad explained how important it was for Danny to cultivate a proper understanding of current events. Especially financial events. One day he'd find himself in the company of people that would look down on him for not being able to name the thirty companies that made up the Dow Jones Industrial Average, or understand the difference between a bull and a bear market.

In the privacy of his own head, Danny thought that he didn't _want _to spend time with those sorts of people. Danny thought that there were more important things, more exciting things in life. (_More important people_)

"You need to grow up sometime, Danny," Dad said with a slight smile.

"Of course," Danny agreed meekly. Dad – and Mom, even more – always talked about him growing up like he was going to suddenly transform into a whole new person. One who had normal dreams and everyday thoughts. One who didn't embarrass them all the time. One who didn't have inappropriate friends, and didn't insist that their friends were being hurt and needed help.

(_Sometimes, when it was dark at night and he was alone Danny wondered if they were right. Maybe, one day, he'd wake up an adult and he wouldn't _care _anymore, not about any of the things that mattered so much now.)_

"I'm afraid I have to work tomorrow," Dad went on apologetically.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," Danny objected sharply, before he'd had time to think, but he was only here till Sunday night and he'd wanted to spend some time with Dad. Just a little time. This was going to be his only chance to see Dad until God knew when. Couldn't Dad have made a little time for him?

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I know, Danny," Dad said placatingly. "Things are just a little hectic at work right now, and Mary has some family commitments, so I said I'd go in to cover. I promise next time you come by, things will be different."

"Right," Danny nodded, the taste of bitter ashes in his mouth. He'd promised himself he wouldn't upset Dad. He wanted to make sure that there _was _a next time, and a next time that was sooner than later. And besides, maybe Dad really did mean it this time. Maybe things _would _be different.

"Here," Dad said gently, with a smile. "Why don't you find us something to watch? Maybe there's a movie on that you like." The smile was almost knowing and Danny's heart could burst at the realisation that Dad remembered _something._

_(A lazy day almost a year ago, he and Rusty sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, flicking through movies, enjoying themselves. Dad had come in and they hadn't been expecting him, and they'd been on their feet in an instant, gathering up popcorn and soda, preparing to go upstairs, out of his way. _

_Dad had frowned and told them to stay put, and he'd actually sat down and watched the movie with them and after a while, they'd been talking just as they always did, tracking down the last place they'd seen Anthony Quinn to 'The Happening' and wondering if Claude Rains really _was _invisible. _

_All Dad's attention had been on them, not on Peter O'Toole and Alec Guinness and he'd been smiling and eating popcorn, joining in the conversation like there had been no place he'd rather be._

_It had been a good evening. One of Danny's treasured memories.)_

"Thank you," he said, meaning it, and he changed the channel until he found 'The Odd Couple' and he watched them anxiously out of the corner of his eye as the movie played. Seemed like they liked it.

Later, when the movie was finished, he lay on the couch and listened to Dad walking Emma to the door. The loud and cheerful goodbyes. The sound of two sets of footsteps quietly walking towards the bedroom. He couldn't help but wonder why they bothered.

With a sigh, he rolled over and went to sleep.

* * *

In the morning he woke up, bright and early and quickly and quietly dressed and headed into the kitchen. He was going to make them breakfast. He'd been planning on it for ages. He'd even got Rusty to show him how to make bacon and eggs. They'd practised a half dozen times.

Of course Dad's kitchen was different from Mom's. It took him a while to find things. Even the coffee machine gave him some trouble, and then the frying pan was at the very back of the cupboard, still in it's plastic wrapper.

He got the hang of it eventually, and when Dad and Emma walked into the kitchen, giggling and holding hands, he was able to put a mug of coffee, a slice of grapefruit and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of each of them.

Dad sat down at the table, self-consciously pulling his hand away from Emma's. "Oh, good morning, Danny," he said, smiling slightly. "Uh, Emma just came over early for breakfast. She'd...she'd left - "

" - my keys," Emma cut in eagerly.

" - her purse," Dad said, at the exact same moment.

Danny looked at them evenly. "I know Emma lives here," he pointed out quietly.

There was an awkward silence. "No she doesn't," Dad protested brightly. "We're just friends."

Right. He sighed and stared down at his coffee, his eyes burning. He just wanted Dad to stop lying to him all the time. "There's two kinds of shampoo in the bathroom. All Emma's shoes are in the cupboard in the hall. The letters on the counter are addressed to both of you. She lives here."

Dad's mouth opened and closed several times but he didn't say a word.

"It doesn't bother me," Danny added thoughtfully. It really didn't.

"Right," Dad said after a moment. "That's...that's fine, Danny. Just...just don't tell your mother, huh? She wouldn't understand. She'd make things difficult for me with the divorce. You know what she's like. She might even stop you from visiting me. You wouldn't like that, right?"

"No, of course not," Danny said quickly. He hadn't been going to anyway. He always kept Dad's secrets.

"That's a good boy," Dad said, smiling approvingly and eating up his bacon and eggs enthusiastically. "I've got to go now. I'll see you tonight, okay?" He stood up, wiping his mouth and reaching for his briefcase, kissing Emma briefly but passionately, and heading out the door.

Danny turned to Emma awkwardly. "Uh, would you like another cup of coffee?"

"Thank you," Emma said, and she seemed just as uncertain as him.

He poured her another cup and sat down at the table opposite her, trying to think of something to say. Every potential topic seemed difficult and seemed to lead back to Dad. "So, how's work?" he asked at last.

"Fine, fine," she said immediately. She looked at him anxiously. "Danny...you know I'm not trying to replace your mother, right?"

He blinked; he hadn't thought that for a moment. "I know," he assured her.

"I care a lot for your father," she went on. "I want to be in his life, and I'm sure that means we'll be seeing a lot of each other. But no one is ever going to be like your mother, I understand that."

Yeah. He didn't think so. "It's okay," he said quietly.

"I'd _like _it if we can be friends," she added hesitantly, looking at him optimistically. "Do you...do you think that's possible?"

He bit his lip, looking at her. She seemed nice. She'd _always _seemed nice and that was something that worried him. "Sure," he agreed slowly. He paused for a long moment, trying to figure out how to say it. "Emma...when I was a kid, Dad was always..." He took a deep breath. This was betrayal, and it didn't sit right with him at all. But she was _nice. _"Dad's never been faithful. Not for as long as I can remember. And it started long before you and there were always lots of different women. I don't know that he's ever going to be monogamous."

There was a long silence and Danny went back to staring at his coffee, his face burning. When he glanced up at last she was looking at him and her face was cold and uncomprehending. "Your father and your mother didn't get on, Danny. So Luke was unhappy and of course he...it's different now."

Danny hoped it would be. Wished it was. He just wasn't quite sure he believed it.

She looked upset now. "Danny, _please. _I really do want us to get along. If we can't, and if you try to make trouble between me and your father - "

" - he'd choose you," he cut in quickly and reassuringly and there wasn't even the slightest trace of pain in his voice. "Don't worry, he'd always choose you. It's...it's never gonna be me," he went on, and he should stop talking, why wasn't he stopping talking? "I understand that. I've always understood that." He licked his lips and he could see the look on her face, the automatic lies she was about to offer him. "It's okay, _really. _It doesn't...I mean, I already ruined things with him and Mom...I don't..." He closed his eyes. "It's okay."

"Danny..." she said, looking upset and looking like she had no idea what to say.

He stood up hastily. "I'm going to go look round the neighbourhood, okay? I'll be back later." He grabbed his shoes and vanished out the door and she didn't try to stop him.

* * *

God, he was so stupid. He had no idea why he'd said all that to her. All the things that he just didn't want to admit to.

He walked through the neighbourhood. Pretty upmarket sort of place, really. Not that he'd really be expecting anything else... It all seemed nice enough. He wouldn't mind spending more time here. Only thing was it was so far away from where Rusty lived. Would take three bus journeys. Though in November he'd be old enough to learn to drive...that was only two months away. That would make things easier.

He wished Rusty was here now. He wanted to tell Rusty everything. Wanted Rusty to tell him how to fix this, how to make Dad like him. Just wanted Rusty to be there and to make everything better.

The rest of the day he spent wandering around, getting to know the area. Always know your surroundings. Because it helped if you ever had to run.

There was a fashionable little café, not that far away from Dad's apparent building, and he sat there for an hour or so, drinking coffee, reading a newspaper, and nibbling at a sandwich and trying not to think about Dad or Emma or Mom or any of it.

* * *

When he wandered back that evening, Dad blinked at him when he knocked on the door before he stood aside and let him in. "Oh, Danny. Did you have a good day?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "It was fine." Little boring, if he was being honest, but then, he preferred not to be honest.

"Good, that's good," Dad said, nodding.

"And you?" Danny asked politely.

"Oh, it was good," Dad nodded. "The place was empty, of course, so I got a lot done."

Danny nodded and wondered whether Dad had been in work at all. When he and Mom had been together Dad had always had to work a lot on Saturdays.

"You'll find that, when you get older, Danny, you'll need to work hard. You can't just take things easy and trust that everything will work out in the end. People won't give you a break all your life, you know."

He could hear the weary warning in Dad's voice. The always-wish that he'd just be a little better than he was. "I know, Dad," he said quietly, and resisted the urge to apologise.

Dad cleared his throat. "We were going to order Chinese tonight, Danny, is that okay?"

"Sure," Danny agreed easily. He liked Chinese food just fine. That part was easy.

Dinner was much the same as it had been the previous night; Danny kept his head down and let the adults talk. He knew perfectly well that on some level he was waiting for the shouting to start. Fortunately they didn't notice his discomfort.

After dinner and they were watching TV again. "So, Danny," Dad began, smiling at him. "What would you like to do tomorrow?"

Danny shrugged. "Whatever you would like to do," he said. He wasn't bothered. He just wanted to spend time with his Dad.

"Oh!" Emma said, suddenly enthusiastic. "We should go to the zoo."

Danny and his father turned to stare at her.

"Kids love the zoo," she said with complete certainty. "Have you ever been, Danny?"

There'd been a field trip back when he was in elementary school, but Mom and Dad had taken him out of that school the week before it was going to happen. "No," he said, though he really wasn't sure that he _wanted _to go to the zoo.

"Okay then," Dad said, sounding strangely upbeat. "We'll go to the zoo." His eyes lit up like he'd suddenly had the most amazing idea. "Why don't we swing by Rusty's house on the way and see if he wants to go too?"

Danny smiled. "Yes, please, thank you."

Emma was looking confused. "Rusty?"

"Rusty is Danny's best friend," Dad explained in an undertone.

"Oh, what a good idea then," Emma said, nodding. "But why don't you phone him tonight? That way he'll know to expect you."

"He doesn't have a phone," Danny said patiently.

She looked like this was a completely foreign concept. "I thought everyone had a phone these days? How do his parents manage without one?"

Danny shrugged and Dad hastily changed the subject before Dad could say anything. "Did you ever hear back from that woman in Nebraska, Emma?"

He looked away as Emma launched into the anecdote. He'd heard the tone in Dad's voice. The reminder that Dad was ashamed of Danny's friendship with Rusty and always had been. Nothing was going to change that.

* * *

He slept on the sofa that night and dreamt of a world where Dad smiled at him when he came home, where Dad was proud of him and where he was enough in himself. In his mind, he basked in impossible, unconditional love, and when he woke up, the pillow was damp.

* * *

He made breakfast again that morning. Bacon and eggs again; it was about the only thing he was confident with.

Dad came through first and blinked when he saw Danny in the kitchen. "You don't need to make breakfast, you know."

"I want to," he answered after a moment, carefully spooning eggs onto plates. "I should pay you back for letting me visit." He wanted to increase his chances of being allowed to visit again.

Dad looked uncomfortable. "You still don't _need _to," he emphasised, but he dug into the plate of bacon and eggs Danny served him enthusiastically.

Emma appeared a few moments later and took the proffered plate happily. "Oh, Danny, thank you." She smiled at him and at Dad. "It's so nice to have breakfast made. Are you sure we can't keep you?"

_Yes. _But Dad picked up the paper and stared at the business section and he wouldn't meet Danny's eyes.

"So, who's looking forward to the zoo?" Emma asked brightly.

* * *

The car journey was pleasant enough. Emma started off talking, keeping the conversation going cheerfully, but she got noticeably quieter the closer they got to Rusty's house. And, as they pulled up outside Rusty's building, she said quietly. "It's...it's not a very nice neighbourhood, is it?"

Dad glanced over at her worriedly. "Perhaps you'd best wait in the car."

She nodded slowly.

Impatiently, Danny leapt out of the door; he wanted to go get Rusty as soon as possible. Dad followed him onto the pavement and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What?" Danny asked, because there was something in Dad's face, something worried and reluctant.

"Danny," He took a deep breath. "Make sure that Rusty is … _presentable _... before you ask him, won't you?"

He stared. Couldn't help it. Oh, he knew what Dad meant. He knew _exactly _what Dad meant. And he wanted to force Dad to elaborate, wanted to force Dad to say the words out loud, to acknowledge, even in this stupid, awful way, exactly what he and Mom had spent all this time denying.

His eyes dropped to the sidewalk. He sighed. "Alright," he agreed, dispiritedly, and he wasn't nearly so upbeat as he might have been as he trudged upstairs to Rusty's.

Rusty opened the door when he knocked and that was always a relief. Danny hated having to talk to Rusty's father. Hated it more than anyone would ever know. Far more than the danger that Rusty impressed on him was there, Danny hated that every time he had to look up at that man he remembered just how powerless he really was.

But now, Rusty was smiling at him, and there was just the slightest hint of a frown. "You okay? What's wrong?"

There were no bruises on Rusty's face. Nothing visible that Danny could see and Danny always saw more than anyone else. "It's nothing," he said. "Dad's downstairs. You want to go to the zoo?"

"Why?" Rusty asked with interest, stepping out of the apartment and closing the door behind him.

Danny shrugged. "I'm not sure. It was Emma's idea. She's downstairs, by the way."

"Oh." Rusty paused on the stairs and looked at him sharply. "So what's - "

" - she's nice enough," Danny said with another shrug. "Says she doesn't want to be my Mom."

"Mmm." He could see several thoughts flitting across Rusty's face, things that no one else would ever notice. But Rusty didn't say a word and Danny was grateful.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped outside and all chance of conversation ceased. Dad looked relieved to see them.

"Hello, Mr Ocean," Rusty said politely as they got into the car.

Dad nodded, looking Rusty up and down in a way that was meant to be surreptitious. "It's good to see you again, Rusty. And this is my friend, Emma. Emma, this is Rusty."

"Nice to meet you," Rusty said with an engaging smile.

"And you," Emma said, smiling herself. She blinked at him in the rearview mirror. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but you're sort of small for a fourteen year old?" The question in her voice was obvious.

"I'm twelve, Ma'am," Rusty explained levelly.

"Oh!" She looked surprised and she was looking between Rusty and him as though she was trying to figure out exactly what they did have in common. Danny could tell her the answer to that. But even though she was nice, he didn't think for a second that she'd understand.

* * *

The zoo was...interesting. They followed Dad and Emma around for a while, gazing at monkeys and flamingos and the angry-looking rhino, and impalas and iguanas and a couple of bored-looking bears.

After a couple of hours, Dad bought them all an ice cream, and Danny and Rusty sat on a bench, watching the penguins frolic seriously, while Dad and Emma moved on excitedly, holding hands and chatting away like they were the only two people in the world.

"Think we've been forgotten," Danny commented easily, like it didn't hurt a bit.

Rusty was leaning forwards, studying the penguins intently, his arms folded on his knees.

"It's been like that all weekend," Danny admitted, and it was easier when Rusty wasn't looking at him. "They're living together."

There was no answer. No sign that Rusty was listening to him.

"I don't mind that," he insisted. "I really don't." He didn't. It wasn't what was bothering him.

"Huh. That penguin just tripped the other one," Rusty commented thoughtfully. "You think that's normal?"

"It's a one bedroom apartment, Rusty. He bought a one bedroom apartment!" His voice was hushed but it was angry and he had no idea how to stop himself talking. "He _promised. _Back when he was moving out, he said that I had to stay with Mom, but when he had got his own place, we'd see about me moving in. And he bought a one bedroom place!"

Rusty looked round at him and Danny was blinking back tears.

"He doesn't want me, Rus'," he managed to say. "He doesn't want me."

Rusty's arm was around his shoulders, holding him close, and he sighed and struggled to get himself under control, hide all the pain, because Dad mustn't know, no-one should know. "Oh, Danny," Rusty murmured, and he wasn't making excuses for Dad, wasn't promising that everything was going to be alright, all he was promising was that he was here and he wasn't going anywhere.

It was enough. It was more than enough. Even if Dad didn't want him, even if Mom would never like him, Rusty liked him and wanted him and loved him. Who needed parents? _(He wanted them though. He always wanted them._)

Presently, before anyone nearby had noticed, he managed to calm down enough for him to sit apart from Rusty, surreptitiously dashing the back of his hand across his eyes.

"So, is that penguin dancing?" he asked, staring out across the water.

"Mmm," Rusty nodded. "Not very well. Sort of drunk uncle at a wedding."

He smiled. "So who do you think is getting married."

"That one and that one," Rusty said definitely. "They're practically holding hands."

Danny shot him a look. "Hands?" he checked uncertainly. "Aren't they more flippers? Or wings?"

Rusty shrugged. "Well, if you want to get technical..."

"Actually, I think they're both guys," Danny said thoughtfully. "Pretty sure there's supposed to be a girl involved."

"Yeah..." Rusty said slowly. Then he blinked at Danny. "Actually, why were you looking and how can you tell?"

"I thought the ones with the quiffs were male?" he said, slightly uncertainly.

"I think the ones with the quiffs are Elvis," Rusty answered, much more definitely.

"Huh," Danny said thoughtfully. "Guess the zoo must be hosting a convention."

"The First International Penguin Elvis Impersonator Symposium," Rusty nodded.

"Bound to be a hit," Danny smiled.

They lapsed into silence and Danny felt a little better.

"Maybe you should ask him," Rusty said suddenly.

Yeah. Maybe he should.

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon milling round the zoo. Watching the animals got boring eventually, so they ended up watching the people instead. All the parents who had been dragged there by their eager children, all the children who'd been dragged there by their doting parents. Tourists on day's out, lovers on strange dates, the art student who kept drawing everything without a head. They wandered and watched and listened to stray conversations.

..."That gibbon looks _exactly _like Aunt Marjorie!"...

..."You can't just ask her out, you have to flirt with her first."...

..."Where's the tigers? You said there'd be tigers!"...

..."So who do you think the Grim Reaper is?"...

..."Are you going to look for your husband?"...

…."No, it's a bad idea I tell you – if you like something you shouldn't dip it in gasoline" -

They caught each others eyes and they were laughing inside, time and again, and the afternoon flew by.

Dad and Emma didn't catch up with them until late afternoon. Actually, Dad and Emma didn't catch up with them at all, they eventually ran them to ground in the bird enclosure, cooing at a pair of lovebirds.

"Just for your information," Rusty murmured in his ear. "The moment this starts looking even the slightest bit Hitchcock, I'm running and leaving you behind."

Danny looked at the sharp beaks all around them. "Oh, you had to say it, didn't you," he muttered back. He cleared his throat as they got nearer Dad and Emma who seemed to be exchanging sweet nothings.

They looked round, clearly startled. "Oh! Danny!" Dad sounded surprised and Danny held his frozen smile. He hadn't been forgotten. He _hadn't _been forgotten. _(Except he had been. Again._) "Right. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he agreed easily.

"Okay, I thought we'd get a spot of dinner?" Dad looked at them both anxiously. "I know a nice Italian place not too far away. Rusty, do you like Italian?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Ocean," Rusty said and his voice was unfailingly polite and there was cold fury underneath.

"And it's my treat," Dad added promptly and insistently, and Danny could forgive him so much just for _saying_ and _remembering. _

In the end, he always forgave everything.

* * *

Dinner went well, thankfully. Emma was bright and vivacious and clueless and Rusty was polite and respectful and charming and the conversation flowed easily and Danny hardly had to say a word to Dad.

And it felt all to soon that they were dropping Rusty back at home. He stood on the sidewalk beside Rusty, gazing up at the windows above them. Was dark in Rusty's apartment and that felt safe. "See you tomorrow in school," he said simply.

"Yeah," Rusty answered, and there was a warning in his eyes about getting his hopes up and beneath that there was hope _for _him, and he smiled reassuringly, like he was absolutely confident that everything was going to be fine.

They didn't say goodbye. Rusty turned and went upstairs and Danny got back into the car.

They drove back to Dad's place in silence and, as Danny made sure he'd packed everything and got his things together, he saw Dad and Emma exchanging a significant glance out of the corner of his eye, and then Emma headed through to the bedroom. Leaving Danny and his Dad alone.

"Danny," Dad began nervously. "Sit down for a moment, will you?"

He did, uncertain where this was going.

Dad paced up and down in front of him. "Danny...Emma told me about what you said yesterday." He turned round and faced Danny, looking anxious and uncomfortable. "You know that what happened between me and your Mom – it was between us. It wasn't your fault."

He was almost disappointed at the lie. But he was willing to play along. "Sure," he agreed, smiling brightly.

Dad didn't look like he believed him. He knelt down on the floor, looking Danny in the eyes. "Listen, Danny. People grow apart. Your Mom and me, we didn't get on. But that was grown-up stuff. It wasn't you. The way we feel about you hasn't changed."

"You were always arguing about me," Danny said hesitantly.

It wasn't like Dad could argue with that. He sighed. "Yes, we were. But that doesn't make any of it your fault, Danny."

"That's not what Mom says," he said in a very small voice.

There was a very long silence. Dad stared at him. "She told you it was your fault?"

"Yes," he said quietly. It wasn't like it had been the first time.

Dad stood up suddenly, dragging him to his feet and hugging him fiercely. It was so unexpected and so utterly unprecedented that all he could do was stand there stiffly. "It is _not _your fault, Danny," Dad said loudly. "It's never been your fault."

There was a lump in his throat and Dad actually meant it and he didn't know what to say. He didn't have anything to say.

After a couple of seconds, Dad let go of him and stepped back awkwardly. "Yes. Well. I should really be getting you back to your mother now. And I think I want to have a few words with her," he added grimly.

"Can't I stay with you?" Danny said in a rush, and he hadn't meant to, he really hadn't meant to. "I won't be in the way, I _promise._"

Dad sighed and glanced away. "It's not possible right now, Danny. I'm sorry. There's no room...and your Mom wouldn't like it. Maybe when things are all settled and the divorce is finalised, then we'll see."

Right. Danny bit his lip. That meant no. He'd known that the answer would be no.

"You can visit any time you like though," Dad told him comfortingly.

That was a lie too. Dad was always busy.

But Dad didn't think it was his fault. And that felt like a twenty ton weight had just been taken off his shoulders. And even if it wasn't completely true, well. Maybe Dad could do some forgiving too.

"Thank you," he said to Dad, soft and grateful and meaningful.

* * *

They drove home in silence and Danny didn't mind at all. For once it felt comfortable.

When the car stopped outside the house Danny waited for a moment but Dad showed no signs of getting out.

He looked at him curiously. "I thought you wanted to talk to Mom?"

Dad sighed. "This probably isn't the best time. I want to calm down. Figure out exactly what I want to say."

He nodded and that almost sounded reasonable. "I had a great weekend, Dad. Thank you."

"Do you want to come over for Thanksgiving?" Dad said suddenly.

"Really?" he breathed, his eyes wide. That would be wonderful. So much better than being with Mom.

"Of course." Dad looked determined. "That's a promise."

"Fantastic!" He smiled happily. "But I'll see you before then, right?"

Dad glanced down at the steering wheel. "Well, work's very busy at the moment. And there's Emma...it might be a few weeks. But I'll see you at your birthday, I promise. Start thinking about what you want."

When he got out the car he was still smiling, even after Dad drove off. He could live with that. So, maybe he wasn't living with Dad, and maybe he didn't get to see him as often as he'd like, but Dad had _promised._

Things were going to get better.

They would.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and no, afraid I don't have the next chapter prewritten. ;)**


	30. Worldview

**A/N: Once again, not the chapter that was promised. The chapter that was promised is about four fifths written though. Honestly. I just figured that since this chapter was finished, I might as well post it.**

**A/N2: Oh, and this chapter doesn't exactly fit into the timeline for reasons that will become obvious very quickly. **

**A/N3: The main reason I'm posting this story is because I shared most of it with InSilva and she said that I should. And this A/N was meant to be one of gratitude and appreciation, rather than blame. Sounds more like blame though, doesn't it? Oh, well. Thanks, mate.  
**

* * *

_English assignment by Danny Ocean aged seven, September 1970, Mrs Cartwright's class _

'Write about your family'

My family is me and Daddy and Mom. Mom works in an office but she is always home when I get in from school. She makes cookies that taste just like the ones Sams mom makes. She is always smiling and never mad at me. Daddy works hard. He is very tall. He loves Mom. He likes playing football with me. He always listens to me. I am seven and three quarters. I have dark hair. I like storys and TV. I try to never upset my parents or disapoint them. I don't bother them too much but if I do they don't mind. I like my family a whole lot.

_Mrs Cartwright: Very good, Danny! Your parents sound like lovely people._

* * *

_Maths assignment by Danny Ocean aged eight, February 1971, Mrs Folger's class._

'If Bob has twenty six bananas and he buys thirteen more and then eats fourteen of them, what does he have?'

Stomach ache.

_Mrs Folger: Very funny, Danny. If you spent half the time you spend in a dream world actually doing the work the rest of the class is doing, you probably wouldn't have to resort to 'clever' answers._

* * *

_Assignment by Danny Ocean aged eight, August 1971, Mrs Jones' class_

'What should you do if a stranger tries to take you somewhere?'

Run and hide.

_Mrs Jones: That's not quite right, Danny – evidently you weren't listening in class again. I'll be having a word with your mother about that, but just remember that you should refuse, yell that you're in trouble, go somewhere with lots of people and tell your parents what happened. Remember, your parents will want to know. _

* * *

_Notes on assignment by Robert Ryan, aged five, November 1971, Miss Thorpe's class _

_Miss Thorpe: Robert, you were supposed to draw a picture of your family. This is a picture of a cake. You need to pay more attention in class and follow instructions. You were fidgeting all day today, I don't know what's the matter with you. _

* * *

_Assignment by Danny Ocean aged nine, May 1972, Miss Coulter's Class_

'Write a poem for Mother's Day'

The things I hear my mother say

Stay with me every single day

She always knows the perfect word

To make sure I'm not seen or heard

Come rain or sleet or sun

There's no one quite like Mom

_Miss Coulter: Daniel, I found this crumpled up in the trash. You were all supposed to take your poems home for your parents. Mother's Day is on Sunday and I'm sure your mother will be extremely disappointed that you don't want to get her anything. _

* * *

_Assignment by Robert Ryan aged five, June 1972, Miss Thorpe's Class_

'Make a card for your father. Draw whatever your father likes best on the front'

_Miss Thorpe: Robert, I don't know that your father will like your picture. Can you tell me why you coloured half the face in purple? And I don't think the red is exactly appropriate. I'm going to be sending a note home to your parents again, I think we need to all have a little chat. _

* * *

_Assignment by Robert Ryan aged six, January 1973, Miss Collins' class_

'Write a story about the best Christmas present you got from Santa Claus this year'

The best Christmas present I got was that Santa didn't bother with me because he hates me and I hate him. He's stupid and mean and I hate presents and I hate toys and I hate Christmas and I'm glad he hates me.

Miss Collins: _Robert Ryan, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! There are plenty of people in the world who don't get any Christmas presents. You should think a little less about trying to impress your classmates and a little more about being grateful for what you've got. I want you to write this essay again. _Properly _this time._

* * *

_Rewrite of assignment by Robert Ryan aged six, January 1973, Miss Collins' class_

The best present I got from Santa was a robot that says 'I'm your best friend' when I pull the string. I like it a lot. I called it Mr Metalliram. It is a good present. It knows how to keep secrets. I am very grateful for it.

_Miss Collins: Much better Robert! Perhaps you could take Mr Metalliram in for Show and Tell on Friday? I'm sure everyone would love to see him. _

* * *

_Assignment by Danny Ocean, aged nine, May 1973, Mrs Simpson's class_

'Write a story about an apology'

One day, Jack needed to apologise to his Mom because he'd embarrassed her and shown her up in front of the neighbours by not being good at sports or music or school and by being rude and uncooth.

Jack had tried to apologise but sometimes sorry isn't good enough and Jack's father had gone away for a few days to get away from it all and Jack knew it was all his fault.

Fortunately, Jack had a secret identity and he was really Captain Steel, the superhero, and he was able to fix everything.

He stayed up all night and used his super powers to magically get good at things and then he flew to Darkest Peru and picked a bunch of the most beautiful flowers in the world and took them back to Jack's Mom and she saw that he really was sorry and she forgave him and then he showed her that he could play the piano and he told her that he'd play baseball if she wanted, and she said she was proud of him.

Then Captain Steel flew to Jack's Dad and said that he was sorry and that he was good now, so Mom wouldn't be angry anymore and Jack's Dad was happy and he came home at once and they lived happily ever after.

_Mrs Simpson: This was a lovely story, Danny, but I think that the wrong person apologised. Don't you think that the mother should have apologised for shouting and the father should have apologised for leaving? I'm going to show your essay to your parents at parent's night tomorrow – I think we need to have a talk about it. And I'm always here if you ever want to talk. _

* * *

_Science assignment by Danny Ocean aged nine, October 1973, Mrs O'Donnell's class._

'Write the story of the water molecule's journey through the water cycle."

Once upon a time there were two hydrogen atoms and an oxygen atom that all got together to form a water molecule. This water molecule liked to hang out in the Atlantic Ocean with lots of other water molecules. One day it was particularly hot and the water molecule was evarporated into the air and became part of a rain cloud through condensation. The water molecule drifted around in the rain cloud until it saw a picnic and decided that it wanted to join in. So it fell down as a raindrop in precipitatation and landed right on top of the picnic table, but everyone else ran away before the raindrop had got to ask for the chicken sandwiches. The water slid off the picnic table into the ground as groundwater where it eventually made its way into a lake. The water molecule was evarporated up into the atmosphere again and it decided that it wanted to fall back into the ocean. The water molecule liked travelling a whole lot.

_Mrs O'Donnell: Very imaginative, Danny, but not exactly the sort of essay I had in mind! You need to be a lot more factual. _

* * *

_Assignment by Danny Ocean, aged ten, December 1973, Mrs O'Donnell's class_

'Read Hans Christian Andersen's story 'The Little Match Girl' and write a brief response explaining what the story means to you.'

The Little Match Girl is a story that really made me angry. So there's this girl and she's all alone and starving and cold and too afraid to go home and no one cares. The story even says that she was walking along the streets and someone stole her shoe. When a child – or anyone – is hurting that much, other people should help. Adults, especially teachers, should pay attention instead of just standing back and thinking "It's not my problem, I shouldn't get involved."

She should have had a coat and gloves and shoes that fit, and enough food – more than enough food - and a safe, warm apartment to go home to and family that was nice to her.

And then, at the end, her dead grandmother comes to take her up to heaven. And that made me angry too. Why couldn't the grandmother have come five minutes earlier and led the kid somewhere warm? Why did the kid have to die to get a little affection? It's not that hard. The grandmother was selfish, taking the child with her instead of letting her live.

What this story means to me is that people are stupid and selfish and notice nothing.

No one should have to live like that. No one should have to die like that.

I hated this story.

_Mrs Mackenzie: Oh, Danny, I think you've completely missed the point of this story! For a start, it was written a long time ago, in 1845. There were no teachers to pay attention to poor children. Nowadays, this sort of thing simply doesn't happen in this country. And at the end, the little match girl was taken up to heaven. Don't you think that's better for her than all the pain and misery she was forced to live with? _

No

* * *

_Assignment by Rusty Ryan aged eight, March 1975, Mrs May's class._

'What should you do if a stranger approaches you?'

I should try and run and find somewhere to hide and if the man grabs my arm I should scratch his hand or bite it and try to get free. If he grabs my t-shirt I should take it off. If he grabs my hair I should just pull as hard as I can because hair will break or tear. If I can't get away I should try to kick him in the knee or punch him in the kidneys because that hurts most and if I can hurt him maybe I can get free. If he has a knife I will stay still and hope that I get a chance to get away. When he hits me I will try not to show that it hurts. I will keep fighting even if I can't get away.

_Mrs May: Robert, I find your essay a little disturbing. I'm going to talk to your parents about the sort of movies they're letting you watch. _

* * *

_English assignment by Rusty Ryan, aged nine, August 1975, Miss Tolland's class_

'Write a story with the opening line 'Once upon a time there was a princess locked in a tower'

Once upon a time there was a princess locked in a tower. She had been locked up because she was spoiled and always asking for things. Because she was so spoiled she hated being locked up and was always dreaming up ways to escape even though she knew that the world outside the tower was dangerous and if she was caught she would be sent somewhere worse.

Sometimes there was a gard in the tower. When the princess was bad he would make her get undressed and whip her back with his belt until she bled and sometimes he would punch her until she was black and blue. She didn't cry though because she wasn't a sissy.

The princess was friends with a wizard who was the most amazing person in the world. He was clever and funny and kind, but sometimes he didn't understand the way things were and he would tell the princess that the gard shouldn't hurt her, even though he had to. The wizard used his magic to cure the princess when she was hurt and when she was sad the wizard would hold her hand and make everything better.

_Miss Tolland: This story doesn't have an ending, Robert, it just stops. Why not have the wizard rescue the princess? And what did the princess do that was so bad? You need to explain things more. Also, I'm not at all pleased with the level of violence in the story. It isn't suitable for a boy your age. And I'm sure that she would be more than crying if she was hurt that badly! Additionally, I'm not at all pleased with the fact that you refused to read your story out loud like the rest of the class. In fact, you haven't said a word all day and don't think I haven't noticed that. You might be shy but you're not going to get very far in life if you won't speak up._

* * *

Maths assignment by Rusty Ryan aged nine, May 1976, Miss Tolland's class.

'Billy and Bob are both driving to Ben's house on Fourth Street. Billy lives eight miles away on Upper Denmark Street and Bob lives three miles away on Taubermann Avenue. Billy leaves at three pm and drives constantly at seventy miles per hour down East Street and Bob leaves at the same time driving constantly at thirty miles an hour up Duke Street. Who should Ben expect first?'

Well, first of all, East Street has a forty mile an hour speed limit, and five sets of traffic lights, as well as a cop stationed permanently on the turnoff to Ninth. So, safe to say, Billy is getting pulled over. And, since the roadworks have closed off Sixth, Bob is going to be driving the wrong way down a one way street right in front of the Police Station. So, if I was Ben, I wouldn't be holding my breath waiting on either of them.

_Miss Tolland_: _Robert, you're not anywhere near as clever as you think you are. Clearly you had no idea how to do the assignment properly. If you have time to look up all the information for a ridiculous answer like this then you could have learned how to do your work properly._

* * *

_Notes on maths assignment by Danny Ocean, aged twelve, September 1976, Mr Valen's class._

_Danny, this assignment is a disgrace. Honestly, I expect better of you. You haven't even bothered with most of the questions and the ones you have, you've got the answers wrong. In fact, it looks like you just guessed. Did you spend more than five minutes on this? And your handwriting is a mess and is that a ketchup stain? This is not an impressive start to the term, Danny. Between this homework and you falling asleep in class this afternoon, I am seriously considering calling a parent teacher conference. Please shape up. _

* * *

_Notes on rewritten maths assignment by Danny Ocean, aged twelve, done by Rusty Ryan, aged ten, September 1976, Mr Valen's class._

_This is much better, Danny. I'm pleased to see you taking your academic performance seriously at last. Full marks. _

* * *

_Assignment by Rusty Ryan, aged ten, December 1976, Mrs O'Donnell's class_

'Read Hans Christian Andersen's story 'The Little Match Girl' and write a brief response explaining what the story means to you.'

This is a story about a really stupid little girl who got what she deserved. She knew how cold it was and instead of doing something about it, instead of finding somewhere warm to hide out in, she just sat in the street and froze to death, being good.

She wasn't able to sell the matches, like she was supposed to, so she should have found some other way of making money. Even stealing is better than starving freezing to death. Or she could have searched in the gutters for pennies. That way she could have taken the money she was supposed to make back to her parents and lied about it, or she could have bought something hot to eat or got a hot drink at least and bought it somewhere indoors so she'd have an excuse to stay inside in the warm for at least a while. Or else, if she really didn't have any way of getting money, she could have at least found some way of getting herself a little warmer. If you fold up old newspapers and put them under your clothes, that keeps you a little warmer. I read it in a book. But she didn't try anything.

And even if she'd get beat when she went home, that's better than dying, isn't it? It's no good dying while imagining warmth and food and someone who likes you. It's better to stay in the real world and stay alive, even if it means being bad and getting punished.

_Mrs O'Donnell: Rusty, I didn't like this essay at all. How can you be so callous at Christmas? You need to make more of an effort to identify with the character. You were supposed to be thinking about how fortunate you really are that you'll never live through such terrible circumstances_.


	31. Different Roads Part 1

**A/N: First part of a three part chapter. Unless it's a four part chapter. The next part is written and the third part is mostly written.**

**A/N2: For InSilva who I will never, ever take for granted. And she has been wonderful and helpful and patient as always, and thank you never feels like quite enough. Especially since she's been waiting on this chapter for an awfully long time.  
**

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Different Roads' Part 1 (Chapter 31)  
**

**17. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**18. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**19. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**20. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**21. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**23. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**24. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

* * *

The trick, Rusty always told him, was to concentrate on being invisible. To pretend – to believe – that you took up no space, made no impact in the world, that it was impossible for anyone else to see you. It seemed to work for Rusty. Sometimes. Danny had never been too successful at it. Normally he'd focus on being unobjectionable instead. He'd be quietly charming and endearing and likable and people would accept him for what he was, or what he was pretending to be. But that didn't work on Mom and Uncle Harold. So he sat silently (_Boys should be seen and not heard.) _on the uncomfortable high-backed chair, his feet flat on the ground, his hands on his knees, (_Boys should display good posture and decorum at all times.) _didn't move a muscle, or yawn, _(Boys shouldn't fidget.)_ and did his best not to look like he was listening to the conversation going on beside him. (_Boys shouldn't eavesdrop on their elders and betters.)_

They'd finished with him for the moment. Uncle Harold had finished saying his hair was too long; Mom had finished complaining about his lack of accomplishments; they'd both finished bemoaning his lack of manners, polish, finesse, respect, discipline and his general attitude.

He sat still and silent. And concentrated on being invisible.

They were discussing Uncle Harold's latest business dealing and Danny listened with half an ear and wondered whether Rusty had managed to get the timings of the shift changes at the movie theatre last night. They'd seen a collection of old posters thrown haphazardly in a storeroom, and they'd quite fancied getting their hands on them. Mostly because they'd asked and been told that such things were not for the public. Which wasn't fair in the slightest; all they were doing was gathering dust. They could liberate a couple of them easy. Something to display on the wall, and Danny dreamily wondered what they might find. Something Hitchcock, maybe. Or Stanley Kubrick. Maybe even something _really_ old. One of the classics. There's been hundreds of them, all piled up. They were bound to find _something_ good.

Mom was glaring at him and he realised he'd been swinging his feet. Ah, hell. He did his best to look apologetic and sheepish and obedient and, still not looking happy with him, Mom turned back to Uncle Harold.

"Sorry, Harold. You were saying about Christopher Swift?"

"Oh, yes," Uncle Harold nodded. "He's absolutely desperate for this merger to go through. Wants to corner the market, and since Barrow Greener have been showing a twenty-three percent increase, the whole thing is, frankly, irresistable."

Boring and incomprehensible.

Mom pursed her lips and looked intent. "Sounds like a match made in heaven."

"You could put it like that, I suppose," Uncle Harold agreed pedantically. "The point is, the _company_ owns a significant proportion of Barrow Greener shares, and whoever facilitates the deal is going to receive a considerable amount of prestige and even more perks."

"A bonus?" Mom asked.

"Among other things," Uncle Harold nodded. "I heard Ted Danbury over at Beechings got a two hundred thousand dollar villa in the Seychelles last year. Paid for personally by Swift. And Drake Fford's son acquired a full scholarship to St Sebastian's in Lancaster. Sutherland is on the school board."

"Really," Mom said thoughtfully. "Is it a good school?"

Uncle Harold smiled. "Oh, yes. I was looking into it. Full of the right sort. The crème de la crème. _Very_ good academically and socially and stresses the value of discipline. I think it could turn _any _delinquent into a proper young gentleman. Well," Uncle Harold coughed hastily. "Provided they have the proper breeding, of course. It's just the start in life that Daniel needs."

"_What?" _he blurted out.

They both looked at him in disapproval. "Daniel!" Mom snapped. "What have I told you about eavesdropping?"

"You must learn to listen to your mother, Daniel," Uncle Harold frowned. "A boy your age should show respect. Filial obedience is one of the qualities that makes a man that other men will take seriously in later life."

"I'm sorry sir, Mom," he said carefully. "But are you really thinking about sending me to school in Pennsylvania?"

"That is not any of your business at the moment, Daniel," Uncle Harold chided him.

He lowered his head slightly. "Yes, sir. But Pensylvania. It's a long way away."

Uncle Harold sighed disparagingly. "It's a boarding school, Daniel. Obviously."

A boarding school. "_A boarding school?" _His voice trembled slightly. A boarding school. Being away from home for most of the year. Being isolated. Being away...being away from _Rusty._

"Daniel Ocean, you will sit still and be quiet," Mom ordered, cross and evidently having lost all patience.

He hung his head. Bit his lip. "Yes, Mom," he said obediently and he sat still and silent as the conversation went on above his head.

* * *

As soon as they'd got home, Danny had made an excuse to go upstairs to his room. Not like Mom particularly cared; she had work to do and she was disappointed in him again. Out of sight, out of mind, and in this case, out of the window.

He needed to see Rusty. Just as much as he needed to eat, sleep, breathe, he needed to see Rusty. Not just today, not just right now…how could he live if he had to spend most of the year apart from Rusty? He bit into his lip hard, as he scrambled down the tree. Wasn't going to happen. They weren't going to let it happen. He'd go round to Rusty's and they'd think of something. They'd fix this.

It was late evening when he got to Rusty's apartment building. The sun was low in the sky and he could hear the screaming anger from the moment he stepped inside.

God.

He started running immediately and he couldn't make out the words, not all of them anywhere. Just little fragments of bile and hatred.

"…._stupid fucking bastard….ungrateful….useless…..insolent little rat…gonna teach you…." _

As he got closer there were other sounds. Muffled thumps. Dull thuds. The sound of flesh striking flesh. No reactions though. No cries of pain.

He hated. He hated so much and the anger was crashing out of him, a helpless spiral of rage, and he flung himself up the last flight of stairs, hammering at the door.

There was stunned silence for a second. Then the door swung open and Rusty was there, glaring at him from beneath the blood, anger aimed exclusively at Danny. "Run!" he said, pushing Danny backwards.

"Come back here, you little shit!" Rusty's Dad roared, and he was there, in the doorway, reaching out towards them, and Rusty was shoving Danny frantically towards the stairs.

The sound of heavy footsteps was thundering right behind them.

"_By the time I get through with you, you'll know when to keep your mouth shut!" _

He was right there. He was chasing them and he was right there.

If he caught them, it would hurt. And maybe, just maybe, if Danny was quick, punched hard enough, maybe he could keep the fight away from Rusty. He was older now, he was stronger now, he could fight and he could hope.

Rusty's hand was tight on his arm, and on the last landing he pulled Danny towards the railing and they leapt over the last flight of stairs, standing in the entranceway of the building, and Rusty didn't let go of him until they were running down the stoop, dodging across the road, down the street, past a parking lot, behind a wall.

"He's gone," Rusty said abruptly, his voice muffled, and the blood was pouring from between his fingers as he held his hand to his nose. "He doesn't follow this far. Not ever. Isn't worth it."

"Good," Danny said, patting his pockets, looking for some Kleenex or something.

Rusty glared at him, furious. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

Nothing useful in his pockets at all. "Tilt your head forwards," Danny said evenly. "Pinch your nose, if you can. We need to stop the bleeding."

Rusty obeyed but he didn't give up. "I told you not to do that. You can't risk it. Didn't you hear – "

" – of course I heard," he said sharply. "I heard and I wanted to make it stop."

"You can't," Rusty said immediately.

And yet they were both here.

"Yeah? You want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't been distracted enough, if I hadn't managed to get away? If he'd been the one to open the door? If he'd pulled you inside and…and…" Rusty broke off, his words choked, his body shaking.

Didn't mean that Danny could leave it. "So it's okay for you and not for me?" he demanded.

"It's not okay!" Rusty said quickly, and he seemed to think he meant it. "But if it's you, it's an adult hitting a kid who's not even his, and no one's gonna stand for that."

And the deeper truth was that Rusty didn't think he could bear to see Danny hurt. There was a little dark part of Danny that actually found it amusing that Rusty could imagine that it hurt any less the other way round.

"I can't let it go, Rus'," he said softly. "I can't just listen and do nothing. Please. Don't make me do that again."

Rusty stared at him, and the anger melted away, replaced with the fear and the concern that Danny knew had been underneath all the time. "I don't want you to risk it!"

Danny sighed. "We need to get you cleaned up. Get the bleeding stopped. Burger place round the corner?"

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, still a little unsteady.

Wasn't far. They walked in silence, Rusty's hand pressed against his face, his head down. Striving for invisibility again. And passersby were few and far between, but they were still staring. Blood drew attention. Didn't mean anyone asked if they were alright.

The gangly teenager behind the counter stared at them when they walked inside. No one they'd seen before, and that was fortunate.

"Can we get some napkins?" Danny asked him, sounding anxious and frantic. "My brother just got knocked down by a bike courier."

"Jeez!" The guy was still staring, but he thrust a handful of napkins towards them. "Do you need me to call 911?"

"No!" Rusty said, maybe a little too fast.

"'s not that bad," Danny said reassuringly. "Any chance we could get some ice though?"

"And a couple of cheeseburgers," Rusty added, a little muffled.

Smiling ever so slightly, Danny passed over a couple of notes. "Fries as well?" he checked with Rusty, and Rusty nodded. "Fries, a banana milkshake and a rootbeer too."

They got settled at the table and Rusty had the wad of napkins pressed to his nose. Danny busied himself with the cup of ice and more napkins. "Here," he said, passing the make-shift icepack over. "Should stop it swelling too much."

Rusty smiled at him and swapped the bloody napkins for the ice. "Ah! Cold," he complained at once, and Danny sighed and slid into the seat next to him, taking the ice out of his hand, holding it to his face.

"Big baby," he teased softly.

"You want me to get frostbite?" Rusty asked, smiling up at him. "I'm very sensitive."

They were sitting close together, and Danny's thumb traced over Rusty's cheek, and for a long time, they said nothing.

Danny studied him surreptitiously, trying to see past the blood, trying to see what else there was. A rapidly darkening bruise at the side of Rusty's mouth. That was about all he could see. "What happened?" he said at last.

An awkward shrug. "He busted my nose," Rusty said simply. "I kind of had it coming though. I said the Giants suck."

"The Giants _do _suck," Danny said immediately, fighting to keep the lightness going.

Rusty grinned darkly. "Well, let's hope they get better fast. Stupid bastard just bet three months rent on them."

"Fuck," Danny said softly, and he carefully pulled the ice away and inspected Rusty's face solemnly. "Doesn't look that bad," he offered reassuringly. There wasn't much swelling. Danny would guess it would vanish by tomorrow. He still wasn't sure if there was anything else though. Something someplace he couldn't see, and he didn't think Rusty was going to agree to take his shirt off in the middle of the restaurant.

"Nah." Rusty flashed him a smile. "You interrupted before he got too far. He didn't have a chance to get in more than a couple of hits. Just got a few bruises. Nothing to write home about."

Right. He swallowed hard, wishing he'd got there just a few minutes before. And the flip side, the part that Rusty was carefully not talking about, was that the _next _time Rusty saw his Dad it would be all the worse.

Rusty was looking at him, frowning. "So why did you come round?" Rusty asked. "Not that I'm not…you _know _I am…." He sighed. "You know better than to come round here."

He took a deep breath and it all came flooding back. God. Come September, maybe there would be no one around to help Rusty when he was hurt. Maybe there'd be no one around to care. And Danny would be hundreds of miles away, not even _knowing_...He _couldn't. _He couldn't live like that.

"Danny?" Rusty sounded anxious. "What's going on?"

"Mom and Uncle Harold are talking about sending me away to school," he said in a whisper, sitting up and away from Rusty, staring down at the table.

* * *

Danny had stumbled through the story and Rusty had listened with growing horror. He didn't want to lose Danny. Not this soon. He'd thought they had more time together. Just a little more time, and he wanted every second he could get.

Only...only that was selfish, wasn't it?

He should be thinking about what was best for Danny. That's what mattered here. Not his fear of being lonely. Should be all about Danny.

"We need to stop them, Rus'," Danny said at last, and his eyes were fixed on Rusty, wide and beseeching.

Rusty couldn't meet that gaze. He concentrated on his fries instead, swirling them through the ketchup and he couldn't even think about eating them. "Is it a good school?" he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Danny was staring at him. "What does that matter?" he demanded. "Rus', I don't want to lose you!"

"We'd still see each other in the holidays," Rusty pointed out, and he could hardly believe that he'd managed to keep his voice steady. "Wouldn't be like I'd died."

"I don't – " Danny tried again.

" – I just think you need to think about it, Danny," he said immediately, not wanting this to be any harder than it already was. "Don't dismiss it just because – "

" – just because I don't _want to?" _Danny said, low and furious. "I don't want to go, Rus'. I'm never going to want to go. Even if you want me to ignore the things that _really matter to me," _he was glaring, and Rusty felt himself flush. "Even without that, I wouldn't want to go. Uncle Harold said that the school is full of the 'right sort'. You honestly want to tell me that you think I'd want to spend my life with the people that Uncle Harold considers the 'right sort'? Do _you _want that for me?"

No. God, no, and he was imagining Danny surrounded by people like Harold Gately, imagining Danny lonely and isolated and that was _never _what he wanted for Danny.

"And Uncle Harold said that the school likes _discipline,_" Danny went on relentlessly. "Somehow, I don't think they were talking detentions."

He shuddered, and he could see that too, could see people hurting Danny, people who had authority over Danny, who would order him around and Danny would never stand for that, and they'd _punish _him, hurt him. "No!" he said, anguished and his hand was gripping Danny's now, somehow, like if he just kept holding on, he could save Danny from all that. "No!"

"I don't want to go, Rusty," Danny said after a second, soft and desperate.

Rusty nodded. "We'll find a way," he promised, and right now he had no idea how.

"I wish Dad was here," Danny said quietly. "He'd never let them do this. Never. He'd stop them, you'd see."

"Of course he would," Rusty said immediately, his voice ringing with sincerity, and Danny flashed him a quick smile. Gratitude for the lie. Danny chose to remember his father as a better man than the one Rusty had known, and he'd never get in the way of that.

"You think if I talked to Mom, told her that I don't want to, you think she'd listen?" Danny asked hesitantly.

Rusty hesitated. "No," he said apologetically. He didn't. Danny's Mom had never listened to him any other time. Somehow, he doubted that this time would be any different.

"Yeah," Danny agreed with a sigh. "Didn't think so." His head dropped forward onto his hands. "Guess all we can do is hope that Uncle Harold's deal doesn't go through."

Leaving things up to chance. Rusty hated the very idea. He wondered if there was some way they could get to the school? Give them the idea that Danny wasn't someone they wanted to take. Trouble was, Danny's grades were, by necessity and invention, excellent, and if they faked up some sort of delinquency, they'd have no way of knowing that it wouldn't come back and haunt the rest of Danny's life.

Danny's head snapped up suddenly, and his eyes were fixed on Rusty's and his mind was a million miles away.

Rusty waited patiently.

"What if..." Danny began, and stopped. He was looking right at Rusty now, hope starting to dawn. "What if we don't leave it up to chance? What if we make _sure _that Uncle Harold's deal doesn't go through?"

Rusty stared. He had no idea how they'd do that. But that didn't mean they _couldn't. _

Danny wanted to stay.

Rusty didn't want him to leave.

They could do this. Because they had to.

* * *

They'd gone back to Danny's for the night, of course. Not like Danny wanted Rusty to go back home so soon. Not like Danny wanted Rusty to go back home at all, but some things seemed inevitable.

The house had been dark; Mom had either gone out again or was asleep. Which left them scrambling up the tree, falling into Danny's bed, and feeling safe.

Not that they slept well. In fact, at first, Danny didn't think that either of them would sleep at all. This was frightening in a different way than anything else. A nightmare he'd never dreamed.

They talked in soft voices until morning, anything and everything, except the point.

(_He would miss this. He would miss this so much._)

They must have fallen asleep at some point though, because he woke up with Rusty in his arms, pulled tight and close to him.

He let go quickly, scrambling backwards, glancing over at the door fearfully. Closed. That was something. No one had come in and seen them. He could imagine the look on his Mom's face, could remember the hatred and disgust in Richard's eyes the other week. He clenched his fists fiercely, ashamed of the doubt, the hesitation. Affection should never be something to be afraid of.

Rusty was awake and watching him and his eyes were shuttered.

Danny swallowed hard. "Sorry," he said, and Rusty nodded, still closed off.

There were noises coming from the kitchen downstairs. Music playing, pots and pans rattling.

"Your Mom's here," Rusty said softly.

Yeah. He stared at the door again. "You need to stay out of sight," he warned darkly.

"So should - " Rusty began.

He shook his head. " – I want to try talking to Mom," he said determinedly. "Make her see things from my point of view."

Rusty's eyes were on his. "I'm not sure this is a good time," he said evenly.

Neither was Danny. Only thing _was – _"I'm not sure how much time we have," he pointed out. Mom had been spending all her time at Richard's lately. He might not have another opportunity to actually see her. And he wanted to have the conversation. Wanted to at least give her the chance to listen to him.

"Danny," Rusty said, shaking his head, troubled, and Danny could see all the worry in there, all the desperate wishes for Danny not to be hurt.

He smiled with as much reassurance as he could muster. Wasn't as much as it could have been.

"Mom?" he asked quietly, standing in the doorway, and he froze immediately. Richard was there. Fuck, he hadn't considered that Richard might be here. They were sitting at the kitchen table, with a jug of Buck's Fizz and a plate of croissants, smiling at each other and immediately he felt like he was intruding. He supposed he was.

Richard sighed and rolled his eyes. "Christ, what do you want?" he asked, and his tone was verging on rude.

"I just need to have a quick word with my Mom," he said steadily, and he hated the urge to apologise, the urge to back away from Richard. He didn't want to be near Richard. Didn't want to think that Richard was here and Rusty was just upstairs, and he didn't trust Richard to keep things civilized.

Mom was standing right there. He was safe. Richard wouldn't do anything in front of Mom.

"What is it, Daniel?" Mom asked crossly.

"It's private," he explained edgily.

"You in trouble, boy?" Richard sneered. "You and your _friend?" _The word was dripping with disdain and disgust, and Danny flinched back and he prayed desperately that his Mom didn't pick up on even the slightest hint of the innuendo.

"I'm not in trouble," he said, and his eyes were on Mom alone and she was thin lipped and disapproving, but she didn't seem to have picked up on any deeper meaning to Richard's words. She was content with disappointment and she didn't expect anything more from him. "I need to talk to you."

She sighed, looking more than a little put out. "Very well," she said. "Shall we go through to the study?"

"_My_ son would never think of disturbing me if I had guests," Richard announced to no-one in particular. "He was raised to be polite."

"Yes, well, I'm sure whatever Daniel wants to say is _very _important," Mom said stiffly, and her eyes said it had better be.

He could feel Richard's eyes on his back as they walked away. Made him want to start running.

He waited until the study door was closed. "Mom, I don't want to go away to private school."

She sighed and sat down at her desk. "I know you don't, Danny." Her voice was gentle and he blinked at the use of his name. "Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to. I know it seems difficult now, but St Sebastians is the right choice for you in the long run."

"It's _not,_" he argued intently. "I want to stay here. With my friends."

"With Robert," she corrected him sharply.

Even if he could deny it, he wouldn't. "Yes."

"I know this…friendship…seems important now, Daniel, but I promise you, when you get out into the wide world you'll meet new friends and you'll forget all about Robert." Her voice was absolutely sincere. Her words were meant to be comforting.

Danny had to suppress a shudder at the very idea. The stuff of nightmares. Literally. "I don't want to."

"It's for the best," Mom told him. "You need to associate with more suitable people."

"More suitable," he repeated flatly

She didn't look away. Didn't show a hint of embarrassment. "Yes."

The anger and hurt was building up inside. Six years. Six years, and she still thought _this. _"Funny, somehow, I don't remember you saying anything about how _suitable _Rusty was last year. In fact, I seem to remember you letting him stay for weeks. Easier than actually taking care of me yourself, right?"

A dozen emotions flickered across her face, and Danny wasn't sure what half of them meant. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was….but he did know better. "I am your _mother _Daniel – "

" – yes. I know," he interrupted sarcastically.

She ignored him. "I am your mother. And I only want what's best for you. I _know _what's best for you."

"_I _know what's best for me," he argued desperately. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

With a sigh, she made a visible attempt to calm herself. "You're a child, Daniel. You don't know anything. St Sebastians could open a lot of doors for you. It could give you the start in life you need. I know you'll miss Robert at first, but you have to understand that friendship is _not _the most important thing in life."

He wasn't the one who didn't know anything. "There's nothing I can say to convince you, is there?"

She smiled at him, sympathy and triumph all at once. "I know what's best for you, Daniel. You have to trust me. You'll thank me, when you're older."

"Not for this," he told her, and he turned to leave.

"This is going to happen, Daniel, and you'd better get used to it," she called after him. "Harold's deal will go through, and you'll be starting St Sebastians in the fall."

Not in a million years.

* * *

Danny's Mom went out with Richard, later that morning, and told Danny not to expect her back for a couple of days.

Wasn't a big problem. In fact, it was even good, in a way. His face was bruised and swollen, and if they went out, he'd get noticed. As it was, he and Danny could just sit around in the living room with ice cream and freshly-delivered pizza, writing down every little detail that Danny could remember about Uncle Harold and the Barrow Greener deal in particular.

It took a while. And he didn't know, at first, what was relevant, didn't know what might be important to save Danny. Stop the deal going through, Danny had said, and they'd never done anything like that before.

"Maybe we don't need to," he said at last, slowly.

Danny looked at him.

"Well, this scholarship…it's not actually part of the deal, is it?" he persisted. "It's something that this Christopher Swift will throw in to sweeten the deal. Like…" He frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. "Like in poker, he's putting it in the pot to encourage your uncle to stay in the game."

Danny nodded his understanding, waiting patiently for Rusty to go on.

"Now, suppose your uncle was thought that someone else at the table might be about to pick up a better hand?" Rusty went on. "He'd want to cut the hand short. Make sure that he didn't lose everything. He wouldn't have time to raise the stakes any, so the school wouldn't be in the pot at all."

Danny had started smiling.

"We'd need to find out – " Rusty began.

" – Lorimer Wick," Danny said immediately, before Rusty had even formed the question. "I've heard Uncle Harold talking about him, seems like they absolutely hate each other. If Uncle Harold thought _he _was going to get in on the deal – "

" – he'd call the hand immediately," Rusty finished, and they were both smiling now. "You said your uncle takes work home every night to read over?"

"So we need to draft a memo?" Danny said thoughtfully. "Something that can just be dropped in, like it's an accident."

"Need a handwriting sample," Rusty said, frowning. "Paper too, maybe."

Danny pursed his lips. "Easy," he declared, confidently.

* * *

Okay, _easy _might have been a bit of an exaggeration. He'd remembered the office block Uncle Harold worked in, remembered that the last time he'd been in there, he'd noticed that the lock on the entrance from the car park was the same as the one on the front entrance to the school. And they could do _that _one in their sleep.

Course, he hadn't remembered the night guard. Because he hadn't had the slightest notion that there was one.

They had been creeping along the corridor on the fourth floor, looking for Lorimer Wick's office, flashlights shining on the name plate on each door in turn, when they'd heard footsteps coming along the corridor behind them. Running footsteps.

Without even looking at each other, they turned to the nearest office door and scrambled through it, turning off the flashlights, easing the door shut, standing against the wall, in silence, in the dark.

"Where are you?" a stern voice demanded, and the footsteps were coming along the corridor more slowly now. "I heard someone."

They stayed absolutely still. Rusty's hand was clasped tight in his and they weren't even breathing.

It was a long moment before the guard walked past.

"Last time we were trapped in an office like this it was all night," Danny remarked in a tight whisper.

Rusty grinned. "Last time _I _was trapped in an office like this I had to jump off the roof."

Yeah. They waited another long few moments and then they were out of the office, running as quietly as they could.

"We need to be quick," Rusty warned, still whispering.

Quick and careful. The guard would still be looking for them. And if they were caught here, it would be even more difficult to explain than being caught at the school. Impossible to write off as just a childish prank.

Nothing pointed to Lorimer Wick's office on this floor. And they didn't see the guard again. They paused at the stairs.

"He'll be upstairs," Danny said in a murmur.

"Two more floors," Rusty remarked.

Yeah. Two more floors and a very good possibility that they were going to run into the guard.

They headed for the third floor first. Hopefully the guard would be on the second floor, and they'd miss him altogether.

The third floor seemed to be larger offices. A boardroom. Some sort of executive suite. For executives, Danny presumed. And none of that seemed to include Lorimer Wick, and when they were getting to the other end of the corridor, where the other set of stairs was, they caught a glimpse of flashlight.

Again, they ducked into the nearest door, and this time they were in a supply closet. They sat on the floor, waiting until the guard had gone past.

"Hey," Rusty said, investigating the contents of the cupboard. "These are some nice pens."

Danny watched, amused, as Rusty pocketed a half dozen pens, a couple of leather notebooks, and a large and impressive looking electronic calculator.

"Finished?" he asked dryly.

Rusty grinned. "Save me buying stuff for school," he explained.

"Right," Danny shook his head. "Ready to try downstairs?"

They crept out cautiously and sprinted down the stairs, not even bothering with their flashlights. Darkness was better than discovery, and as long as they held onto the banister, it was easy enough to find their way.

Second floor, and they were running along the corridor, and now they did need the flashlights, name after name after name and Danny found his Uncle Harold's office, and two doors along there was Lorimer Wick's.

"Hurry," Danny whispered, and the security guard would still be in here, somewhere, would still be looking for them.

Rusty nodded and he was already searching through Wick's desk, seeking out paperwork.

Danny kept watch at the door, and it was barely five minutes before he saw the light from the guards flashlight peeking round the corner.

"I can see you!" the guard called, and Danny knew he was lying.

All the same. "Hurry," he muttered.

"Got it," Rusty called back, and they were running for the door, closing it behind them, sprinting for the stairs, and they were on the ground floor, running through the parking lot before they knew it.

"Now we just need to figure out how to get it to Uncle Harold," Danny commented breathlessly, as they walked away from the office – not running, not drawing attention, working on being invisible – heading for the bus back home.

They were going to need to think carefully about that.

* * *

Late at night, and they were curled up in Danny's bed, and Rusty had hesitated for a moment before lying down beside Danny. Just for a moment, because he'd seen Danny's reaction that morning, and he understood, or he thought he understood. But Danny had grabbed his hand, pulled him down beside him.

"This might not work," Danny told him in a whisper, a truth that neither of them wanted to face.

This might not work. Soon – sooner than he could bear – they might both have to learn to live alone.

It had been a long couple of days. He was still hurting.

He held Danny as close as he could and pretended he'd never have to let go.

Danny was doing the exact same thing.

No words. They slept.

* * *

Danny walked into Uncle Harold's office wearing a mask of perfect self confidence, ignoring the puzzled looks of all the people he walked past. He had a right to be here. He wasn't doing anything wrong. And he didn't need to be invisible.

If he was being honest, this really didn't seem like the best idea they'd ever had. It relied a little too much on Uncle Harold voluntarily spending time with him. And _that _had never happened that Danny could remember. Still, they had to drop the memo into Uncle Harold's briefcase, and they couldn't know when Uncle Harold would leave it alone.

The receptionist had responded eagerly to his hopeful smile and his slightly-stammered explanation, and she'd sent him up the stairs to Uncle Harold's office, telling him that Harold would be leaving shortly.

Uncle Harold was standing in the doorway of his office, with another two men that Danny didn't know. He looked surprised to see Danny. Surprised and not altogether happy.

"Daniel? What are you doing here? Does your mother know where you are?"

Now came the speech and he'd tried to think about what a normal kid would say in this situation. A touch of embarrassment at having to ask for help, expectation of being _given _help, gratitude...

He smiled hopefully. "Uh, she's gone away for a couple of days, sir. And there's no food left in the house and she forgot to leave me any money...I was wondering if you'd mind if I came for dinner? Please?"

It was all true, of course. Except that they still had money from the two women who'd talked all the way through the movie last weekend and they were quite happy buying food for themselves, and Danny would never, ever go to Uncle Harold for help. But it was a good story, and they'd figured that Harold would feel obliged to take him home for the evening, giving him lots of time to plant the memo.

But Uncle Harold was glaring at him and the other two men were looking shocked, and Danny wasn't exactly sure what was going on.

"Very well, Daniel," Uncle Harold said stiffly. "Just wait here while I get my briefcase." He nodded pointedly to the two men. "Samuel. Frederick. I'll see you in the morning."

"She went away and didn't leave you any money?" one of the men asked, his brow creased.

Danny blinked. "Yes, sir," he agreed. It wasn't like it was the first time. And he _was _fifteen, after all. He smiled easily. "She can be a little absent-minded, from time to time."

The man frowned some more. "So who's looking after – " he began, but Uncle Harold was there, thankfully, and cut him off.

" – my nephew is a fine young man but he's at an age where even young men from the best families are prone to exaggeration and practical jokes," he said, staring the man down.

Danny really wasn't sure what was going on, but a couple of minutes later, Harold was marching him out of the building like he was in disgrace, and the briefcase was in Harold's hand, and then it was in the trunk of the car, and Danny wasn't seeing any opportunities here at all.

Uncle Harold waited until the car door was shut. "Do _not _talk about your mother like that, Daniel," he snapped. "I've never been so embarrassed in all my life."

Danny stared. What...? "I didn't say anything bad about Mom," he said, entirely at sea. "I just wanted to get some dinner."

There was a pause and Uncle Harold flushed darkly, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "Yes, well," he said, struggling. "You shouldn't...don't do it again."

Don't do _what _again? "Yes, sir," Danny agreed, because it honestly didn't matter in the slightest. This was all about staying on Uncle Harold's good side, and they'd discussed it and decided that this was the best way to avoid arousing suspicion. An undeniable excuse and not mentioning the school at all.

The drive home was devoid of conversation, except for Uncle Harold making unpleasant comments under his breath about other drivers. Danny said nothing and he held onto the door tightly as Uncle Harold cut off the lady in the red Buick.

As soon as they pulled up in Uncle Harold's drive, Danny was out of the car, and he watched as Uncle Harold pulled the briefcase out of the trunk and marched into the house, not even checking if Danny was following.

Still no opportunity. Maybe when he put the briefcase down?

But he walked straight into the study, and Danny followed just a little way behind, and he was in time to see the safe door swing shut.

Oh.

"A man can't be too careful, Daniel," Uncle Harold told him ponderously, as he turned round. "My clients entrust me with their secrets. I need to keep them safe from thieves. A real man faces up to his responsibilities."

Danny nodded and tried to look impressed.

A safe. The briefcase was only ever in Uncle Harold's hand or in a safe. There was no opportunity here. There was no _hope _here. They were finished.

Dinner was awkward and near-silent. Rosamund, Uncle Harold's housekeeper, had left a lasagne in the fridge, and there was enough for both of them. At any other time, Danny would have found it delicious; he'd tasted Rosamund's cooking before. Right now, he couldn't taste anything.

"It was nice seeing you, Daniel," Uncle Harold told him carefully, once dinner was eaten, once they'd drank coffee and Uncle Harold had told him how to put the world he didn't care about to rights. "You're beginning to grow into a decent, respectable young man."

"Thank you," Danny said numbly, and he'd come here to commit fraud.

"Here," Uncle Harold added, even more awkwardly, reaching into his wallet and pulling out fifty dollars. "To tide you over until your mother gets back."

Oh. He blinked. That was unexpected. "Uncle Harold, you don't have to," he said insistently, not taking the money. He felt a little guilty. He'd basically conned Uncle Harold into thinking that he needed help, and it wasn't true.

The look of harsh disappointment was very familiar. "Daniel, the correct response is one of gratitude and humility," Uncle Harold snapped.

"Sorry," Danny said immediately. "Thank you."

He took the money. He wasn't exactly sure how he could refuse it without looking suspicious.

* * *

It had been a long few hours. And Rusty didn't know exactly what he was worried about, he was just worried. Wasn't like he'd ever spent much time with Danny's Uncle – as soon as there was even a chance that he was going to be around, Danny's Mom was always quick to push Rusty towards the back door, like an embarrassing little secret – but he knew the way Danny always seemed that bit less sure of himself after talking to the man. He didn't have to know to hate.

He didn't feel comfortable waiting for Danny downstairs. Oh, he knew that Danny's Mom wasn't due back yet, but it still felt like an intrusion. Danny's Mom's space, and he knew he wasn't welcome. He waited in Danny's room instead, dealing out hand after hand of cards, and when he got bored of dealing from the bottom of the deck, he tried dealing from the middle. He was sure there'd be a trick he could learn, if only he could figure it out.

It was almost nine when he heard the front door open and he waited, tense and listening, as the footsteps trudged upstairs.

Danny. Definitely Danny. And not Danny enjoying the heady swirl of success.

He opened the door and stared into the defeat in Danny's eyes.

"What..." he started to say, but Danny hardly looked at him, he just walked past him and slumped, face down on the bed. "Danny?"

There was a long pause, and when Danny spoke, his voice was muffled by the pillows. "He keeps the papers in a safe, Rus'. I couldn't get to them. I'm not going to be _able _to get to them."

A safe. Fuck. They really hadn't planned for that.

"We could – " he suggested.

Danny laughed wildly. " – how?" he demanded. "I have _no idea _what the combination is, and I seriously doubt he's going to tell me if I just ask."

Rusty bit his lip and carefully lay down on the bed beside Danny, stretching a hand out and resting it on Danny's shoulder. "Hey. 's okay. We'll think of something. We always do, right?"

There was a sound that might have been a muffled sob. "_This _was what we thought of. This was our wild and impossible scheme. We're finished. Uncle Harold's going to be making his negotiations all next week and by next Friday, I'll be enrolled in St Sebastians."

"Danny..." He hated hearing Danny giving up. It went against everything that should be. "We'll think of something."

"I'll run away," Danny said, sitting up and staring at him wildly.

"No. You won't." Rusty was absolutely unmoveable.

"_Rus'_ – "

" – _Danny_ -"

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I don't want to go, Rusty," Danny said at last.

Rusty took a deep breath. "Safes can be cracked, right? We've seen it in films."

"We don't know how," Danny pointed out. "Think it takes more than a stethoscope and wishes."

"Right," Rusty agreed, and he really, really wasn't sure about this. This went against all his instincts. "We could ask for help."

Danny blinked. "Who could we..." His eyes widened. "_Oh._"


	32. Different Roads Part 2

**A/N: Second part! Third part probably will be finished by the beginning of next week. In the meantime, enjoy. **

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Different Roads' Part 1 (Chapter 31)  
**

**17. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**18. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**19. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**20. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**21. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**23. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**24. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

* * *

Half nine wasn't too late for a phonecall, they'd figured. And Danny needed to know if there was any hope as soon as possible. It seemed all too probable that he'd say no. What reason did he have to say yes, after all?

Rusty dialled the number and silently passed the receiver to Danny, and they stood close enough together that they'd both be able to hear every word.

Right. He was mature. Self confident. Grown-up and responsible. He had to work on making all that shine through his voice.

The phone was picked up after it had rang four times. "Bobby Caldwell," the man said tersely.

"Good evening, Mr Caldwell," Danny began smoothly. "You probably don't remember us. My name's Danny Ocean. You met me and my...partner," He hesitated over the word, but it seemed like the right choice, the adult choice. "In November last year."

There was a sound that might have been a sharp intake of breath and then silence.

Danny frowned. "We, uh, tried to pick your pocket and you gave us a few tips?" he prompted hopefully.

"Yes, Danny. I know who you are," Bobby said dryly. "How are you? Are you safe?" The questions were quick and breathless.

Damn. Danny remembered back in Chicago and he'd _thought_ that Bobby had gotten the wrong idea about them. "We're back home. We're safe," he told Bobby, looking at the bruises on Rusty's face.

Rusty was looking at him, puzzled, and Danny smiled and shook his head.

"I _see,"_ Bobby said, and there was something in his voice that suggested to Danny that whatever Bobby _thought _he saw, wasn't what Danny had meant him to see. "So what can I do for you boys?"

"We're in a bit of trouble, Mr Caldwell – " Danny began.

" – Bobby," Bobby interrupted patiently. "Please."

"Right," Danny said hesitantly. "Anyway, we were wondering if you knew how to open safes? And could teach us?"

The silence stretched out for a long time.

"We wouldn't ask, but it's really important," Danny tried, sincere and serious.

"I can't teach you over the phone," Bobby said slowly. "We'd need to meet up."

They'd figured on that. But that sounded like Bobby was _considering _it, and he grinned at Rusty. "If you're sure it's not too much trouble?" he asked hopefully.

"I have to work tomorrow and Friday," Bobby told them. "Would Saturday be okay?"

He was smiling even more. "That would be fantastic! Thanks, Mr Caldwell...Bobby."

"I'm going to need an address," Bobby said neutrally.

Danny gave him the address of a diner on the other side of town. Seemed safest.

"Thanks," Bobby said. "Now, I'm not promising that I'm going to help, but I'll see you on Saturday at ten."

"Yeah. Thanks so much for this," he said, sincerely.

He hung up the phone and looked at Rusty.

That had been surprisingly easy.

* * *

Bobby stared at the phone, unblinking. That had been..._unexpected. _To say the least.

It had been eight months. He'd told them at the time that they should call him if they ever needed anything, and for the next few days – _weeks _– he'd hardly wanted to leave the phone, just in case they called, needing helped.

There had been something about them. Oh, not just the fact that they'd done such a good job of lifting his wallet. Not even the way they'd looked at his money and seen essentials – food and clothes, like they weren't something every child had a right to. Maybe it was had been the new father in him that had him up in arms about it. He couldn't help but imagine Linus having to fend for himself in the same way, and it terrified him. Never. Oh, not ever. But it wasn't just that. Not just the skill and not just his natural sympathy. It had been the way they'd worked together. The way they always seemed to know what the other was thinking. The way Danny had ordered him to let go of _Rusty, _not both of them. The way they'd been so quick and so eager to learn, the way they'd flown through jokes and quips.

They had been special. Exceptional. He'd liked them. He'd wanted to help them. And they hadn't called.

And he'd imagined them living on the streets, hungry and desperate, and every day he'd cursed himself for not persisting the first time.

He'd been afraid that if they felt cornered, if he'd confronted them about being runaways, then they'd get scared and run. Instead he'd given them money, given them space, and waited for them to call.

And they _hadn't. _

Except now, eight months later, they had. And it hadn't been anything like what he was expecting.

"Who was on the phone?" Molly asked, popping her head round the door enquiringly.

"Those boys I met last year," he said, slowly. "Danny and Rusty. " He knew she'd remember. She'd spent enough nights listening to his agonised _what ifs. _

"Oh!" Her eyes were wide. "Are they okay? Did they tell you where they are?"

He turned to look at her. "They want to know how to crack safes," he said helplessly.

Molly stared. "They want _what?" _

"Yeah." Bobby smiled briefly. "I told you they were unexpected."

"In god's name, _why?" _Molly demanded.

"I don't know," he said soberly. "Danny didn't say, he just said it was important." He thought for a moment. "I think it must be important if they were actually calling me."

Molly crossed the kitchen quickly and clasped his hands tightly. She smiled at him. "You going to teach them?"

"Probably," he admitted. "I said I'd meet them on Saturday. I didn't make any promises, though. I want to see what's what."

Molly leaned in close to him automatically, a comforting embrace.

They weren't just talking about checking on the boys' reasons for wanting to know how to crack safes.

'We're home', Danny had said, and Bobby wasn't sure how comforting that really was. He still remembered the look in Rusty's eyes when Bobby had grabbed them. The frozen, the wild, the terrified. It had worried him then. It worried him now.

He would make sure that they were safe.

* * *

"So that's that, then," he said, as they lay back on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. "He's going to help us." It sounded good. Sounded like maybe they were getting somewhere. But he still felt uncertain and he wasn't sure why.

"He didn't say for definite," Rusty cautioned.

"Why else would he come all the way out here?" Danny asked. Except... "_Why _is he helping us?" he asked slowly, turning his head to look at Rusty.

Rusty's lips were pursed and he didn't know either.

"What's he getting out of it?" Danny wondered, and this was important.

"Maybe that's why he's coming out here," Rusty said softly. "Maybe he wants to know how we're gonna pay him back."

Danny grimaced and stared back up at the ceiling. "Uncle Harold gave me fifty dollars," he said. "I've got about another twenty of my own."

"I've got thirty," Rusty told him. "That's a hundred total."

"'s not enough, is it?" Danny asked quietly.

Rusty shook his head. "It's not even as much as we owe him."

It wouldn't be enough. If Bobby was looking to be paid for lessons, then they didn't have a hope. Danny wasn't sure what the right price for that kind of thing _was, _but he was damned sure they weren't going to be able to raise it in two days.

"Fuck," he said, miserably.

"He didn't say he was looking for money," Rusty pointed out, and the optimism in his voice was forced. "Maybe...maybe he'll just want us to do some kind of favour? One thief to another."

"What could we do that he wouldn't be able to do though?" Danny asked.

Rusty shrugged. "Got to be things that kids could do that adults couldn't," he suggested. "Places we could get into...people that wouldn't be suspicious. Maybe he's got something like that in mind. Some job he could use us."

Maybe. That might not be so bad. "But we don't want him to think of us as kids," he said with a sigh. If Bobby was thinking of them as just stupid kids, he'd be less likely to listen to their reasons for wanting to break into the safe, more likely to just dismiss them out of hand. "We need him to take us seriously."

There was a long, long silence. "Yeah," Rusty said at last, unhappily, and when Danny turned his head to look, Rusty's hand was rubbing over the bruises on his face.

His eyes widened. "Saturday...they're not going to have faded." Nowhere close, by his experience.

Rusty nodded tightly. "He's going to see them." He caught Danny's eye. "It's just going to make things more complicated, Danny. You really think he's going to take us seriously if he thinks I'm some little kid who needs defending?"

Danny didn't want to argue that. Not right now. "It's not like you can wear a mask, Rus'. I think he might notice."

"No," Rusty agreed. "I can't wear a mask..."

There was something in his voice... Danny thought for a moment. Then he stared.

"_Oh._"

* * *

They were surrounded.

Shelves and shelves of lipstick and mascara and blusher and brushes and lotions and random things that Rusty didn't even know _what _they were supposed to do.

"Just so you know?" Danny began conversationally, a look of numb bewilderment in his eyes. "If anyone asks if we need help, I'm going to seriously consider dying of embarrassment."

"Think we _do _need help," Rusty told him, scanning the shelves grimly. He frowned. "What's the difference between shimmery and iridescent?"

"Do you want to be either?" Danny asked practically.

"Well, no," Rusty admitted.

"Then I wouldn't worry about it if I were you," Danny advised.

"Right..." He shook his head. "Well, we're looking for foundation, right? Or powder?"

"This says it's concealer," Danny commented, picking up a small pot with a suspicious frown. "'s orange, though."

Rusty nodded. "Suppose if I was orange, that would conceal the bruise," he agreed.

"And make you look like an Oompa Loompa," Danny pondered.

"I'd need green hair," he pointed out.

"There's probably something round here that could do that," Danny told him, looking round thoughtfully.

There was the sound of giggling voices coming closer to them. A group of girls, the next aisle over, heading their way.

They exchanged a quick look and hastily bundled as many thing as they recognised into their pockets.

No way were they going up to the woman on the counter to pay for make-up.

"Maybe it comes with instructions," he hissed hopefully, as they left the shop. "You know, like paint."

"Paint comes with instructions?" Danny asked, sounding surprised.

Rusty shrugged. "Stir well, apply to walls evenly in a well-ventilated area, do not eat."

"Huh." Danny considered that. "Substitute 'face' for 'walls' and I reckon this stuff probably works the same way."

Rusty sighed. "Lunch?" he suggested plaintively, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting up. Shopping was _stressful. _

"It's only eleven," Danny pointed out mildly.

There was something that had been nagging at him. "Safes," he said at last, as they strolled in the sunshine.

"Yes?" Danny prompted encouragingly, after a moment of silence.

"They can't all be the same, right? I mean, there'll be different types or whatever. Different locks. It's no use Bobby teaching us how to open one kind and then us finding out that your Uncle's is a different sort altogether."

"Mmm," Danny said slowly, and Rusty could see he was thinking through the point. "We need to be able to tell him what kind of safe it is."

Rusty nodded. "Think you could describe it well enough?"

"Maybe," Danny said thoughtfully. "But there's bound to be some kind of make or model information on it, isn't there? We should find that out."

Sounded like a plan. He smiled. "He'll be at work right now?"

"He'll be at work right now," Danny confirmed.

Best time for a visit.

* * *

Rosamund seemed happy to see him and she let them in easily enough.

"Sorry to barge in like this," he said, with a charming smile. "Only I was visiting my uncle last night and I think I must have left my pen here."

"Of course, of course, come in and look," she said with a smile, and they made a point of heading to the living room first.

"Oh, by the way," Danny added, pausing in the doorway. "That lasagne you made last night was delicious."

"Thank you," she said with genuine delight. "It's nice to know someone appreciates my cooking."

Yeah. Danny couldn't imagine that Uncle Harold was exactly lavish with compliments.

"Would you like some lunch?" she added. "I could whip up something for you before you go."

"No, thank you," Rusty said firmly, a split second before Danny would have agreed.

"Why not?" Danny asked, in a whisper, after Rosamund was gone, and they were making a show of searching the living room, just in case she came back. "I know it's not fast food - "

Rusty shot a glance at him. " – it's your Uncle Harold's food," he said calmly. What do you think would happen if Rosamund happens to mention that we'd been here and I scrounged some food?"

He gritted his teeth and he _knew _what Uncle Harold would say. Uncle Harold had hardly met Rusty and Danny still knew what he thought. Such a small thing and it shouldn't matter.

After a couple of moments, they headed into the hall. "Just going to try the study, Rosamund," Danny called, and there was an answering shout of acknowledgement.

The study. And he stood against the door while Rusty inspected the safe. "Got some numbers," Rusty announced at last. "And a brand name. Protex. That, and describing the safe and the lock..." He broke off and looked across at Danny. "It'll be enough, right?"

He didn't know. He thought so. Probably. "Let's go get some lunch," he suggested.

* * *

Later that night and Danny was doing his best to keep a straight face, looking at Rusty's latest efforts at covering up the bruises. It wasn't a laughing matter. It really wasn't. But he just looked so _ridiculous._

"This is...not right," Rusty said at last.

"You _think?" _Danny asked, leaning against the bathroom door, making sure that no one came in. He could imagine Mom's reaction to all of this, and even more he could imagine Richard's. And just because they weren't home and just because this was his room and they never came in here, didn't mean he should relax.

Rusty nodded seriously. "'s orange. My face isn't orange."

"You could put it on all over," Danny suggested mockingly.

"Back to Oompa Loompas again," Rusty said, sighing. "It doesn't look right, Danny. Not nearly."

No. It didn't. And this was the very last of the different types of make up they'd acquired."

"Either it doesn't cover the bruise or it looks like I'm wearing make up," Rusty went on, and Danny could hear the discomfort in his voice and he wasn't smiling now, he was wishing they didn't have to do this.

"We'll get more stuff tomorrow," he suggested softly. "Different stuff. We'll get the hang of it."

Rusty sighed and rubbed his fingers around the outside of his mouth. "Maybe we're overthinking this," he said hesitantly. "Maybe he won't even care."

"Maybe he won't," Danny agreed dully, after a fraction of a second.

Maybe he wouldn't. No one else ever did, after all. There were always bruises. And okay, during school time especially, they were mostly places that no one could see, but they were on Rusty's face some of the time. Enough of the time that people saw them. And no one cared. Not enough to say anything, not enough to do anything, not enough to put an _end _to it.

Danny had told a lot of people over the years. A steady stream of teachers who seemed sympathetic or competent, and most of them had made the right noises and none of them had changed anything, except sometimes they'd had a quiet word with Rusty's parents, and sometimes that meant that Rusty didn't come to school for a few days.

And yes, some of that was down to Rusty flat out contradicting him, telling whoever was asking that there was nothing wrong with his life, that his father would never lay a finger on him, letting them think that he was clumsy, an attention-seeker, a violent thug, whatever they wanted to believe – but they should _notice. _They should have done something.

And Danny had told his Mom and she hadn't believed him, and she'd seen the bruises over the years and she hadn't cared, and that had _hurt. _And Danny had more than told his Dad, and Dad had seen more than just bruises, and Dad had done _nothing. _And that hurt more than Danny could ever bear to think of.

So many people. And none of them ever did anything. Why should Bobby be any different?

Only Danny had _liked _Bobby. He really had. Bobby had been nice to them, and he hadn't talked down to them and he was an adult _and _a thief. Danny liked him, and he tried to imagine how it would feel if Bobby saw the bruise on Rusty's face – saw the evidence that Rusty was beaten by his father - and turned away, just like everyone else did.

One more disappointment. Danny wasn't sure he could take it. Wasn't sure _they _could take it.

And there was a small, selfish part of him, one that he didn't like to acknowledge, that was considering what would happen if Bobby did notice and did try to do something. Seemed most likely that nothing would change for Rusty. Nothing ever did, after all. But Bobby wouldn't help them with the safe and Danny would be sent away and probably Rusty would be taken away for a while, to someplace they didn't know that might or might not be safe, until eventually he got sent back to his Dad. Just like last time. And that would be them, apart forever, or as good as.

It wasn't what he wanted, and that was selfish. But it wasn't what _Rusty _wanted, and he told himself that made it okay.

He sighed. Maybe Bobby wouldn't care. And it hurt too much to find out if that was true or not.

"We'll try more make up tomorrow," he said firmly. "Come on. Let's go see what's on TV."

They were half way through watching the film, as the girl who was meant to be ugly had make up put on her by a squad of other girls, when Danny realised. He turned to Rusty. "You know what we need?"

"A girl?" Rusty answered immediately.

Danny nodded and grinned. "We need a girl."

* * *

Bobby was finding it a little difficult to concentrate on work. Would have been different if he had anything big on, but right now he was just helping Jim Cartwright and Felix West sort through the Zucher files, ready to hand over to prosecution. He hadn't been the lead on the case, but he had been involved, and they needed it tied up as soon as possible. Didn't make it any more exciting.

Particularly when he couldn't stop thinking about Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan and wondering exactly why the wanted what they wanted. Wondering what sort of trouble they were in. Wondering how he could help.

"You doing anything this weekend, Bobby?" Felix asked, as they took a quick break for coffee.

"Going to see some friends," Bobby asked easily.

"Leaving the wife and kid behind for a brief return to bachelordom, huh?" Jim asked, grinning, and nudging him in the ribs. "A weekend of booze and girls?"

"_Definitely_ not," Bobby said firmly, regarding the idea with distaste. Not just because he would never think of another woman – with the company he was going to be keeping this weekend there had better not be any drinking either.

Jim shook his head, grinning some more. "Whipped," he pronounced cheerfully, and Bobby carefully didn't rise to the bait.

He had more important things to think about. He should check out the town, for one. See if there was anyone who might be helpful anywhere in the vicinity. Someone must know someone.

In the meantime it was back to the Zucher files.

* * *

According to Rusty, Gina had been taking part in the swim club all summer, and so could reliably be found at the swimming pool each morning. Also, according to Rusty, Gina's older sister was in beauty school, and tended to practice on her little sister on a regular basis.

Danny never doubted the knowledge for a second. Though sometimes he did have to wonder. There was knowing everything and then there was knowing _everything. _

They sat on the wall outside the swimming pool patiently.

"So," Danny said presently. "If Gina will help us then we're set, right?"

"Right," Rusty agreed absently, and his cigarette was burning out, unnoticed.

"You want to maybe take the afternoon to get some more money together if we can," Danny suggested. "If Bobby does expect cash, maybe we can pull together enough to make a difference." Maybe they could give him money and promise to send him more as they got it. Sort of lessons on a payment plan. Could work.

"Maybe best," Rusty said, still not looking round, and he was responding to Danny, hearing Danny, it was just that Danny couldn't help but notice that he really didn't have Rusty's full attention.

Curiously, he looked over to where Rusty was looking. The track field on the other side of the street. Danny couldn't see anything interesting. A boy in track shorts he vaguely recognised – Jonny, went to their school, the year above Rusty – was leaning against the gate, laughing with someone just out of sight.

He frowned at Rusty. "You okay?"

Rusty turned to face him, blinking and puzzled. "What?"

"What were you looking at?" Danny asked patiently.

"Oh!" Rusty shrugged. "Must have just spaced out. Sorry." He dropped the remains of his cigarette and ground it beneath his heel.

Danny accepted that doubtfully. "Okay...there's Gina," he said suddenly, spotting her coming out of the door with a bunch of other girls.

They stood up leisurely and moved in behind her, one on each side.

"Hey, Gina," Danny said lazily.

"Hi, Gina," Rusty chimed in.

She looked from one to the other of him and smiled, slightly uncertainly. "Hi Danny. Rusty," she added, like an afterthought. "What's going on?"

Danny smiled brightly. "We need a favour," he said simply. Gina owed them a favour. Actually, Gina owed them half a dozen favours. But Danny didn't want to actually draw attention to that unless it was absolutely necessary. Not very subtle, after all.

Gina laughed. "So serious," she complained. "Can't it wait for another day?"

"Not really," Rusty put in simply and Danny met her gaze steadily.

"It's important to us," he added.

She nodded and glanced at her friends. "You guys go on without me. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, Gina," Danny said quietly, as her friends grumbled and walked away.

"So what's the big fuss?" Gina asked.

"We need you to show Rusty how to put on make up," Danny explained urbanely.

Gina spun round and stared at Rusty. _"What?" _

"Thanks, Danny," Rusty muttered, glaring at him. He sighed. "I got into a fight and I don't want my Dad to know about it."

They waited in a split second of uncertainty and optimism.

"Oh!" she said, sounding surprised. "You want to cover up those bruises."

"Exactly," Rusty said with a smile, and Danny gritted his teeth against the realisation that she hadn't _noticed _the bruises up until then.

She hesitated for a moment. "I'm not sure I can do that...but I bet Tiffany, my sister could," she added brightly.

"Would she help us if you asked her?" Danny asked.

"I think so," Gina said with a shrug. "She's always looking for people to practice on." She giggled. "She'll make you look really pretty, Rusty."

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Rusty said dryly.

* * *

Neither of them had ever been to Gina's house before. It was nice enough, but her mother regarded them with instant suspicion.

"This is Danny Ocean and Rusty Ryan, Mom," Gina said as they followed her through the door. "We're just going upstairs to ask Tiffany a few questions."

"Leave the door open," Gina's Mom said immediately.

Gina's cheeks were tinged red. "Mom, you're _embarrassing _me," she hissed. "It's not like that."

It really, really wasn't like that. But, somehow, Rusty doubted that was going to make any difference to the way Gina's Mom felt.

Tiffany was nice enough and amenable to persuasion and ten minutes later, Rusty was sitting in a chair, a paper napkin tucked around his neck, with Tiffany leaning in uncomfortably close to him, staring at his face. He resisted the urge to flinch away with great difficulty. Danny was perched just in front of him, on the edge of Tiffany's dressing table, comfortingly close.

"Hmmm, you've got gorgeous skin," Tiffany announced. "And good colouring."

He wondered what that meant. Danny shrugged in a way that signified he was lost too.

"It should be easy to match," Tiffany went in. "Then I'll blend the edges. Soften it a little. Won't take long."

It didn't. And there was a mirror on the table in front of him and there was something peculiar about watching the bruise vanish in front of his eyes. Oh, he could still _feel _it, and if he looked really close, he could still see the shadow of the swelling around it, but to a casual scrutiny, it was gone.

"There," Tiffany said at last, standing back satisfied. "All done."

"Thanks, Tiffany," he said sincerely.

It really, really wasn't obvious that he was wearing make-up. And he'd taken careful note of what she did, made sure he could do it for himself.

And even though she'd given him enough of the stuff to last until the bruise faded, he'd taken careful note of the brand name.

He was pretty sure he'd be doing this again.

* * *

They spent the rest of the day in the park, enjoying the sunshine and lifting wallets. More than they would normally take, enough that it was a risk, but they both felt the sense of urgency. They wanted to get money so as to convince Bobby they were worth helping.

Rusty could see the worry in Danny's eyes. Could see the strain and the exhaustion. There might be a plan, but it was all about relying on someone else – an adult, at that. Adults weren't reliable. Came with the territory. And Danny didn't want to be sent away.

Danny didn't want to be sent away. And he'd listened to Danny's thoughts about what the school was going to be like, and he'd move heaven and earth to keep Danny away from that, but Danny's real fear had been leaving Rusty. And he wasn't going to deny how that made him feel – the sort of warmth, deep inside, that promised that he'd never be cold and lonely again - but the problem was, some day, one day sooner than either of them would truly like, Danny would have to leave him behind. Two years this September, Danny would be off to college, and no matter what Danny might say, no matter what ridiculous bets Danny might be willing to make, Rusty didn't think they'd see each other after that. And at first he knew that would be absolute hell for _both _of them.

Maybe the right thing, the _kind _thing to do, was to start stepping back now.

He glanced at Danny as they sat under the band stand, Danny recounting the day's takings single-mindedly, as if he was somehow going to find some new form of addition in which eighty seven dollars and sixty two cents equalled _enough. _

To hell with stepping back.

"Hey," he said softly and when Danny looked up he was smiling and his eyes were calm. "You wanna go catch a movie this evening?"

Danny glanced down at the money in his hand, his expression troubled.

Rusty laughed. "I wasn't actually suggesting _paying," _he pointed out.

"Okay," Danny agreed, with a slight grin and he took the hand that Rusty offered to help him up, and if Rusty held on for a little longer than he had to, well. Did it really matter?

(_Yes. Oh, yes._)

"This is going to work," he told Danny firmly, layering his voice and eyes with all the confidence he could want. "Because we're going to make it work."

They would persuade Bobby to help them. Whatever Bobby might want, Rusty would find a way to make it happen.

Eventually Danny would leave.

In the meantime, Rusty would make each moment count.

* * *

Danny felt a lot more relaxed now. Seemed as though Rusty had spent the evening determined to make him think about _anything _other than the school and the safe and Bobby. The movie had been incomprehensible, Rusty's whispered commentary had been hysterical, and after that the conversation had been wild and outrageous, and every time he laughed or smiled he could feel the tension in his stomach unknotting just a little more.

He needed this. This indefinable miracle made him complete. Why was that so hard for everyone to understand?

Rusty had kept the make-up on for the rest of the day and Danny knew that the way that no one gave him a second glance, no one looked at him with speculation or judgement in their eyes, made Rusty feel a hundred times better. He'd watched the self consciousness dissipate, and he doubted that this would be a common occurrence – wasn't like Rusty was _comfortable _wearing make-up. But maybe it was another option for situations like these. Something that made Rusty feel less vulnerable.

They'd walked past a newsstand after the movie and they'd seen the headlines. The Giants lost again. Rusty gave him a wan smile.

"He's going to be hell to live with."

Danny couldn't say anything, but he thought that maybe he was the definition of hell to live with.

Rusty smiled brightly and started talking about stage magicians, candlelight and fedoras, and they wandered into the pizza place on the corner and let the rest of the evening fly by.

Rusty was already asleep on his feet as they walked up to Danny's house, and Danny's thoughts were pretty much centred around falling straight into bed.

That was when he caught a glimpse of the car in the driveway.

"Mom's home," he said tightly, and Rusty was awake in a second.

"Fuck," he said quietly.

"Yeah." Danny was inclined to agree. He chewed on his lip for a moment. "We can't assume that she won't come upstairs to check if I'm home or not, if she doesn't see me. I need to – "

" – I'll – "

" – no." Danny was insistent. "She might not let you stay." He remembered the things he'd said the last time he saw Mom. Was far from impossible she was still mad. And if she was mad at him, she'd send Rusty back to his Dad, and whatever happened would be all Danny's fault.

"Suppose Richard's there though?" Rusty asked, staring at him.

He hoped he wasn't. "I'll be careful," he promised. "I'll see you upstairs. Stay out of sight."

He opened the door and Mom was there immediately, like she'd been waiting for him. Now _that _was unusual.

"Daniel," she said at once, scowling. "I need to have a word with you."

"Of course, Mom," he agreed at once, even though it hadn't been a request. Rusty was upstairs and they had to be free to meet Bobby tomorrow. The last thing he should do was pick a fight.

He followed her into the living room and sat stiffly on the seat she pushed him towards. She stayed standing. Making a point of towering over him.

"I'm entitled to go away for a few days, Daniel," she began at last, staring down at him. "I have my own life and I can't be subject to you all the time."

He blinked, utterly confused. "I know that," he agreed carefully, when she seemed to be waiting for a response.

"Then why were you telling tales to your Uncle?" she demanded, her lips in a thin line.

That was what this was about? What had Uncle Harold been saying? "I just went over to his house for dinner," he tried to explain.

Mom's face was flushed. "You made it sound like I don't provide for you, Daniel. I do not appreciate being made out to be some...some child abuser!"

Danny stared at her, really not knowing what to say. This was completely ludicrous. "I'm fifteen," he pointed out as calmly as he could. "I can look after myself." And it wasn't like he'd ever gone to Uncle Harold for help before or ever would again.

"Yes, exactly," Mom said quickly, and there was something in her voice...she was being just a little too insistent. Like she was trying to convince herself. Oh.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Mom," he promised sincerely. "Next time I won't go to Uncle Harold."

She looked a little mollified. "You should have told me that I'd forgotten to leave you money," she said sharply. "I can't be expected to remember everything."

"Of course not," he agreed reasonably. "Next time I'll remind you." Like hell he would. He didn't beg his Mom for money. That was just tacky.

"I think I forgot to give you your allowance this month," she went on crisply.

Danny blinked. This month and every month since he was thirteen. He'd assumed that he just didn't get one now.

"Here we go," she went on, pulling two fifties out of her purse and avoiding meeting his eyes.

Was she feeling _guilty? _He made no move to take the money. "Mom, I don't need it."

"Don't be so stupid, Daniel," she snapped, her voice brimming with derision. "You need to learn to be properly grateful to the people who provide for you. And maybe if you were a little less reckless with your spending you wouldn't have had any problems in the first place."

Suddenly he wasn't feeling like the reasonable one and he wasn't feeling relaxed and happy. He felt like a particularly stupid kid, like a burden and an inconvenience and everything Mom always thought he was.

He took the money. "Thank you," he said dully. "May I go to bed now?"

She was looking at him. "Are you still sulking because I'm sending you to a new school?" she asked.

"No," he answered honestly. Not sulking.

"Good," she said shortly. "I've been looking into it and as soon as Harold's deal is finalised and the scholarship is official, we'll be able to go up to the school for a visit. At the beginning of August, I would think. Maybe you'll meet some new friends. That's something to look forward to isn't it?"

_(Something to dread.)_

It was never going to happen, he reminded himself. "Yes, Mom," he said aloud.

Her lips were pursed. "Honestly, Daniel, you're too old for this nonsense. Show some enthusiasm, for pity's sake, or people will think you're as dense as a post."

"Yes, Mom," he said again, swallowing hard and trying to sound at least a little upbeat.

She sighed exaggeratedly. "I swear, I don't know what to do with you sometimes. I despair of you, I really do. You've just never shown the slightest _spark_."

He didn't say anything. He just stood there, his hands shoved into his pockets, his teeth tearing his lower lip apart.

"Sometimes I wonder how you ever expect to amount to anything. You get this sullenness from your father, right along with your disloyalty. I swear you're growing up to be just like hi..." She stopped short.

Danny held himself absolutely still. Didn't flinch. Didn't show any of the emotions raging through him. It took so much effort. "May I go to bed now?" he asked again quietly.

"Yes, of course," she said, looking anywhere but in his eyes. "Goodnight, Daniel."

"Goodnight, Mom," he said politely, obedient as Mom could wish.

He walked upstairs like a robot, and when he walked in the door, he distantly heard Rusty swear.

It wasn't until he was held safe in an embrace of boundless understanding that he let it _hurt. _


	33. Different Roads Part 3

**A/N: Yes, yes, this chapter was longer than I said it was going to take. Sorry. RL, mostly.  
**

**A/N2: For InSilva. Partly for readthrough and constructive and suggestions. Partly just for being bloody wonderful.**

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**4. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**5. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**6. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**9. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**11. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**12. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**14. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)  
**

**17. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**18. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**19. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**20. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**21. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**23. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**24. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.  
**

* * *

They got to the diner early. Bobby had got there earlier and he was sitting in the booth in the corner, his back to the wall and an unobscured view of the front door.

Huh. They exchanged a curious glance in the doorway. That's where they'd have chosen to sit if they'd arrived first.

He tried to study Danny as surreptitiously as possible, making absolutely sure that all the emotion of last night was safely locked away. Weaknesses were there to be hidden. Danny's Mom. Sometime he thought they'd get by quite well if she decided to never speak to Danny again.

"I'm fine," Danny promised him in an undertone, rolling his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?"

Before he'd even thought about how to answer that – because if anyone around here had a history of worrying too much it _certainly _wasn't him – Danny had pushed open the door and stepped inside.

Indignation set aside in an instant, Rusty fell in step at his shoulder, and they strolled across the diner to where Bobby was sitting.

Bobby had seen them the moment they walked in and his gaze was all things sharp and appraising. There was something else there though...worry? Concern? Huh. Somehow, he doubted _that _was going to help them get taken seriously. They'd need to work extra hard to convince Bobby that they didn't need any more help than they were asking for. And the way Bobby was studying them...he resisted the urge to check whether the bruise on his face was still covered up. Twenty minutes he'd spent on that this morning, making sure it was perfect. There was no sense in doubting himself now.

"Hi, Bobby," Danny began easily, as they sat down. "Thanks for coming."

"We really appreciate it," Rusty added sincerely.

"Don't mention it," Bobby said, waving a hand dismissively. "I told you to call me if you ever needed help and I meant it." Rusty was watching for some sign of ulterior motives and he couldn't see anything.

"Still. Thank you," Danny said, with quiet insistence.

Bobby nodded and leaned forwards, looking at them seriously. "Now. I asked you on the phone but I'm asking you again. Are you okay? Are you safe?"

He met Bobby's eyes and did his best to project a slightly puzzled reassurance. Like he had no idea why anyone would even be asking.

"Of course, sir" he said steadily.

"Everything's fine," Danny added persuasively.

Still Bobby looked at them for a long moment before he nodded and accepted it as truth. _Seemed _to accept it, rather. Rusty certainly had no plans to let his guard down anytime soon. "Okay then," Bobby said. "And it's Bobby," he added, looking right at Rusty. "Not sir."

Oh. He should have thought of that. Just that, when in doubt, sounding _too _respectful always seemed safer. Could be the difference between a clip round the ear and a punch in the mouth. But they were supposed to be working on making Bobby think of them as equals.

Fortunately, the waitress came by at that moment, with a cup of coffee for Bobby. She looked across at him and Danny. "What can I get you boys?"

"Coffee, please," Danny said easily.

"Make that two," Rusty added, feeling just a twinge of regret. The milkshakes they sold here were really great, but he didn't want anything that made him look more like a kid than he already did. Coffee was the better choice.

"You want something to eat?" Bobby interjected. "I'm going to have something." He looked up at the waitress. "Can you bring me some scrambled eggs, please?"

There was a second of hesitation and then Danny smiled. "Same here."

"Can I get some pancakes? Thanks." Sounded good to him. He reached into his pocket for his wallet, as she walked away, ready to get the money when she came back.

"I'll get this," Bobby said quietly.

He looked up sharply. "We can pay for ourselves," he said quickly. He didn't want them to owe anymore than they had to.

Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "It's important to consider how things look," he said, apparently apropos of nothing. "If you're looking to avoid attention, you need to think about what's unusual. A man buying breakfast for two kids? There's a dozen stories that can cover that. No one's going to question it and no one's going to remember it. The kids are buying their own food? That's different. Memorable."

Huh. He hadn't thought about it that way. But Bobby had a point. He nodded reluctantly. "We can pay you back."

"It's just money," Bobby said gently. "It's not what's important."

For a second, Rusty wanted to point out that it _was _important when you didn't have any. But that wasn't even true, was it? Even when he was broke and starving, it wasn't the money he was after. Money might be a means to an end, but most of the time, it was about the game, about having fun and doing the right thing, about surviving. And now he was wondering. Because if _Bobby _didn't think that money was important, then it seemed likely that wasn't what he wanted from them.

"So you want to crack a safe?" Bobby began abruptly, when their food had arrived. "Mind if I ask what you're stealing?"

"Nothing," Danny said levelly. "There's something that we need to put _in _a safe, that's all."

"Uh huh." Bobby regarded them sternly. "If I'm going to help you, I need to know exactly what you're doing."

They looked at each other for a long moment. It sounded reasonable enough – unfortunate, but reasonable. It was Danny's call, though, and he saw the reluctance in Danny's eyes give way to resignation.

"Okay," Danny agreed, turning back to face Bobby. "My Uncle is currently involved in making a business deal with – "

" – Christopher Swift," Rusty took over smoothly. "He's trying to get as many perks and bonuses out of it as possible, including a scholarship for Danny to some private school in Pennsylvania."

"And I don't want to go," Danny added firmly.

"And he doesn't want to go," Rusty agreed. "So we figured the easiest way would be – "

" – stop Uncle Harold from actually wanting to waste time haggling for the perfect deal – "

" – make him think – "

" – a rival – "

" – Lorimer Wick – "

" – going to – "

" – snap the deal up first."

They'd been talking faster, Rusty realised, falling over themselves in their haste to explain their plan. They weren't used to explaining their thinking. The kids in school who asked them to do things, they rarely wanted to know how it was done and even more rarely did they understand. But Bobby was looking at them and nodding understandingly, a glimmer of amusement barely visible.

"So we figured that if Uncle Harold found a note that had apparently got caught up with his papers accidentally, then he would panic and take the first offer on the table," Danny explained. "And obviously _I'm _not going to be his first priority."

"But when Danny tried to plant it in his briefcase, it turned out the only time he lets it out of his sight is when it's in the safe in his study," Rusty finished expectantly, and that seemed everything covered.

"Right," Bobby nodded, and there was still a hint of amusement in his eyes but his expression was serious. "You got the memo?"

He had. He pulled it out of his pocket and passed it across the table.

"You should really think about fingerprints," Bobby said absently, turning the memo to face him with the corner of a napkin. "Probably doesn't matter in this case, but if you're planting things last thing you want is your fingerprints on it."

Huh. He'd never even thought of that. And okay, Danny's Uncle Harold wasn't going to be checking for fingerprints, but still. "I'll do it again."

Bobby smiled at him. "Bit of practice and you can do just about everything wearing gloves."

"_Everything_?" he asked involuntarily and in his head he indulged in a brief second of juvenile amusement and he even though nothing was showing in his face, he _knew _that Danny was sorely tempted to kick him under the table.

Fortunately Bobby didn't seem to have noticed anything. "This is headed notepaper," Bobby commented, frowning.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"We picked it up while we were getting the handwriting sample," Danny explained.

Bobby was shaking his head, his smile wondering. "You really did think of everything, didn't you?"

"Tried to," he said tightly. They hadn't thought of the fingerprints. And they hadn't figured out a way of getting into the safe by themselves. That was them two down.

"You got the handwriting sample on you?" Bobby asked.

He did. For exactly this situation. "Here," he said, passing it over. "Got it out the trash so it won't be missed."

For a long moment Bobby compared the writing on the pieces of paper.

"He uses initials to refer to everyone so I kept that the same," Rusty pointed out, feeling the need to defend his work. This was almost like passing homework in to be graded, only worse. This mattered. And all too easily he could imagine Bobby turning round and laughing at them, telling them they were just stupid kids playing pretend. He leaned forwards anxiously. "And he seems to always misspell – "

Danny's shoulder brushed against his, not so casually. Right. Right. Time to be quiet.

"You did this?" Bobby asked, looking at him. "You do good work."

Rusty felt himself smile unexpectedly. "Uh, thanks," he said.

"Did anyone teach you?" Bobby went on.

"No, we just figured it out." It was just a question of copying each letter exactly. Took a long time, but it wasn't that hard. Danny mostly left it to him. Said he didn't have the patience.

"Very impressive," Bobby commented, and Rusty looked at him sharply, searching for some sign that they were being mocked. Huh. He couldn't be one hundred percent certain, but it seemed like Bobby meant it. He really didn't know what to say.

"I can teach you how to open safes," Bobby told them seriously. "But I imagine you're going to want to move on this as soon as possible."

"We were thinking tomorrow night," Danny agreed.

Bobby nodded. "You're not going to be experts by that time. I was thinking, if you don't mind the company, that I could go along with you. Make sure everything runs smooth."

They turned and looked at each other for a long moment of unspoken conversation. Danny wasn't anymore sure than he was about this. They hadn't wanted to be any more reliant on Bobby than they had to be. Hadn't wanted to let Bobby get too close in case he saw something that made him change his mind. On the other hand, Rusty pointed out, Bobby was right about them not becoming expert safe-crackers over night. They'd have more chance of success this way. For a moment he could see Danny wavering but in the end they were decided.

"Okay – "

" – thank you."

Bobby had sat and waited politely for them to finish. "Good," he said with a smile. "Now it's not exactly my area, but I know people who dabble in the stock market. I can make a few phone calls and I should be able to find out exactly what stage this deal is at."

Oh, that sounded good. Rusty couldn't help but wonder how you went about getting a network of contacts like that.

"Thanks," Danny said and Rusty smiled and Bobby stood up and left the table, heading for the phone at the back of the diner.

"What do you think?" Danny asked him in a low voice.

"I like him," Rusty answered honestly.

"Me too," Danny agreed. "And I think he's on the level." He shot an enquiring glace at Rusty.

Rusty shrugged noncommittally. He hadn't seen any hint of ulterior motives from Bobby. That didn't meant they weren't there. Certainly it didn't mean that Bobby could be trusted. And Bobby was a lot bigger than them and a lot stronger and he looked like he could more than handle himself. If it came to trouble, Bobby could hurt them really badly.

"Right," Danny said, his gaze troubled. "Guess we stay alert."

* * *

Bobby finished his last phone call and looked back to the table where the boys were sitting. Their heads were bowed close together, talking softly. Or maybe not talking. It seemed like they didn't exactly need to, judging by that little display earlier. He'd tried not to smile, watching that. Didn't think it would exactly be appreciated. But it was so strange and impressive. It was like they were living on some other level. And he'd seen similar – hell, Molly knew what he was thinking more often than not – but nothing so deep and nothing so unselfconscious.

It was amazing. They were amazing. And he'd been promising to help them before he even knew what he was doing.

The good news was, he hadn't seen any signs that they were being hurt. No obvious physical injuries, and he'd watched them walk across the diner and neither of them seemed to be hiding any pain.

That was something. A lot better than his worst imaginings had suggested. Still, he wanted more than just his impressions to be certain. He'd have to come up with something clever. Some way to get the answers without asking the questions.

There was still little hints that got him worried. He hadn't liked the matter-of-fact acceptance in Danny's voice when he'd said he obviously wouldn't be his uncle's priority. And he hadn't liked Rusty's sharp insistence that they pay for their own food. The same drive for self-sufficiency that had them stealing money for essentials. It bothered him. Even their obvious reluctance to trust him – oh, he knew they didn't, knew that they were talking about him even now – somehow he doubted that they had many positive experiences of relying on other people.

He wasn't going to let them down.

He headed back to the table, being sure to let them see him coming, and by the time he was sat down they were discussing the plot of some TV show like that was what they'd been talking about all along.

"Did you find anything?" Rusty asked, his head cocked to one side.

"Yes," he nodded. He'd called Reuben, who'd given him Larry Smith's number, who hadn't known but had passed him on to Victor Meyer who had been very helpful. "This deal your uncle is involved in is top secret but my contact – Victor – is sure it's still in the early stages. He doesn't know for definite, but he thinks it's likely that no sweeteners are on the table at the moment. Won't be until the bidding reaches two million."

"Two million dollars?" Rusty said, apparently involuntarily, and Bobby nodded, resisting the urge to smile at the wide-eyed astonishment.

"So Uncle Harold hasn't been offered the scholarship yet," Danny said softly, and Rusty shot him a smile.

"It doesn't look like it, no," Bobby agreed, and he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Victor says that when this deal goes through, Barrow Greener stock is going to go through the roof. That's why it's being kept a secret. I was thinking I'd buy some shares myself. If you want – if you've got a little extra money – I could buy some for you. That way, if everything goes according to plan, you make some money."

And if everything didn't go according to plan, if the shares didn't profit for whatever reason, then Bobby would give them the money _anyway _and they'd never have to know. Anything that could help them, and sometimes a little extra money could make a difference.

There was a moment of uncertain hesitation and then they exchanged a long look and Bobby waited patiently. He had no idea what they were thinking, no idea what thoughts were being exchanged, he just knew there was _something._

"Okay," Danny agreed, turning back to face him with a dazzling smile. "We can give you about two hundred and fifty dollars."

His eyebrows shot up. Huh. That was decidedly more than he'd been expecting. All to the good though. Insider trading wasn't his thing, but he'd make sure they made a profit. "Alright then," he said aloud. "Let's go and learn about safes."

* * *

From the outside, the bar was about as unnoticeable as it was possible to imagine. Danny figured they'd probably walked past it a hundred times and never looked twice at it.

But this, apparently, was where Bobby's contact could be found and this was where Bobby had led them to.

"You're really too young to be in here," Bobby commented quietly as they followed him inside.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Not like either of them really drank. The last time Danny had drank had been last December and what he remembered was waking up to watch Rusty flinch away from him. And Rusty...Danny didn't think that Rusty had ever drank alcohol because he wanted to. And if there was some other reason, some things that Bobby didn't think they were old enough to see, well. They'd both lived worse.

And Bobby was supposed to be seeing them as adults, anyway.

"I'm sure we'll cope," he said dryly.

"There are worse places," Rusty agreed.

Bobby shot them both an indecipherable look and walked up to a man sitting at the side of the bar. "Leo?" he asked with confidence.

The man looked round with a wary smile. "Yeah?"

"I'm Bobby Caldwell. I believe you were expecting me."

"Right, right." Leo nodded, understanding clearly dawning. "And these must be the brats, huh?"

Danny kept his smile wide. "Danny Ocean," he introduced himself, holding his hand out. "And this is my partner, Rusty Ryan."

"Leo Ruger," Leo said, shaking first Danny's hand, then Rusty's and looking slightly incredulous. "And, uh, no offence meant, right?"

"None taken," Rusty said, smiling charmingly, and they'd both been called worse after all. But Bobby was glaring at Leo like he wasn't at all happy.

"So, you've got a safe in the back room, right?" Bobby asked brusquely.

"Yeah, well, it's just downstairs. This is Monty's place, but there's nothing in the safe and he said it would be alright," Leo explained with a shrug, passing the key over to Bobby, and jerking a thumb at the door over his shoulder. "Help yourself."

The door led to a set of stairs which led to a back room with a desk, a sofa and a solid-looking wall safe. Danny looked at it thoughtfully and he honestly couldn't imagine how they were going to open it.

"Now," Bobby began, and he gestured for them to sit themselves down on the sofa while he stood in front of the safe. "There are several different ways of getting a safe open. The easiest way by far is to know the combination."

"There's no way of finding that out," Danny said immediately.

Bobby nodded, not looking surprised. "You'd be amazed at the number of people who write combinations down though. Or tell their loose-lipped friends."

"Not Uncle Harold," Danny said. He was far too careful.

"Okay then," Bobby went on. "Now, some people use explosives. I prefer not to myself. It's loud and it's messy but it _is _effective. It's also something often best left to the experts."

"We don't want him to know that the safe has been opened," Rusty pointed out quietly.

"Which would also be the problem with drilling the lock," Bobby agreed. "I'll show you how to do that, if we've got the time, but that leaves us with cracking the combination." He pulled out a stethoscope and a sheath of graph paper. "And that's what I'm going to show you now."

Bobby ran through the demonstration four or five times. It all seemed...insanely complicated, actually. The number of wheels and locks and tumblers, listening for the right click, plotting it against the right number – Danny wasn't certain that they'd _ever _get the hang of it. Certainly, he had to figure that Bobby had been right about them not getting it in time for tomorrow.

Yet another reason why they owed Bobby.

And that was what made the money okay.

Bobby had suggested that they give him money to invest in shares to get a profit out of this thing, and Danny had seen the possibility at once. A reason for them to give Bobby their money, and then if the shares failed to make a profit, they'd have no cause to be mad at Bobby. Much more elegant than charging them for lessons. Much less chance of them refusing.

It made sense, and Rusty had agreed, and they'd decided to go along with it anyway. They needed Bobby. And paying him back by allowing themselves to be conned...might not be dignified, but it still made them even.

He watched as Bobby ran through the demonstration again.

"Different safes have different numbers of locks and tumblers," Bobby said quietly. "Until I can see what type of safe this Harold has – "

"Protex T-1000," Rusty said promptly.

"We checked," Danny added.

Bobby was smiling at them again and Danny couldn't think what that smile reminded him of. He didn't know that anyone had actually smiled at him like that before. "I should have known," Bobby murmured, shaking his head. "Okay. That safe will actually be _easier _than this one. It's got one less tumbler to worry about." The smile broadened and he held the stethoscope out towards them. "You want to give it a try?"

* * *

Bobby watched the two boys bending over the safe, passing the stethoscope between them, bright eyed and eager and determined.

They'd been at it about two hours now. And they were learning fast, making progress, and he'd given them every piece of advice they asked for, every hint and tip he could think of, and he'd watched them fumble and correct each other, soft voices discussing every move they made, brilliant smiles heralding each small success the other one had.

It had taken him a while to figure out what was so strange.

He remembered back when he'd been a kid, learning new things had meant competition. New sports, new games, new lessons in school – he and his friends had always kept score. Comparing themselves. Oh, it had all been friendly enough, but there had been pride and boasting and rivalries.

It mattered who was the fastest. Who was the cleverest. Who was the best. Who picked things up quickest. It had mattered.

Even when he'd been much older, learning to crack safes himself, with Dougie Tarrant and Chris Smith, they'd been in competition. Stephen Grant had been teaching the three of them, and they'd played off each other, each determined to get the hang of it first. Friendly rivalry. It had inspired them to learn.

It was normal. And certainly, between teenage boys, it was what he was _expecting. _

And yet there was no sign of it here.

As Danny was the first to get the point on the first tumbler, Rusty had smiled at him like he couldn't be happier, couldn't be prouder, and Danny had grinned in sheer delight and had immediately relinquished his spot and started telling Rusty exactly what he was listening for.

He'd known they were close. But there was no competitiveness and no jealousy, and he had to admit it was strange.

Yet more evidence that they really were exceptional.

* * *

Six hours and they hadn't got the hang of it. Rusty had to admit that this was a whole lot more challenging than he'd ever have expected. And it was _fun. _

Fun in the way that education so often wasn't. New and exciting, and he'd be absolutely content to carry on working all night.

Danny had gone upstairs to get some drinks. Soft drinks, Bobby had specified sternly and Danny had smiled in a way that they were almost certain had hidden the momentary unease from Bobby. Danny wasn't so sure about leaving Rusty alone with Bobby. Just in case. But he'd smiled mockingly at Danny; what, after all, was going to happen? Danny had nodded in reluctant acknowledgement and headed upstairs.

He stared at the safe in absolute concentration, turning the dial fractionally and _listening. _There. That was one. Thirty-nine or fifteen. He smiled and moved on to the next one.

"You need to plot it on the paper, Rusty," Bobby chided him gently. "You won't be able to keep the numbers straight in your head unless you write them down."

Actually, he could. He knew he could. He froze and he didn't know quite what to say. They'd long ago figured out that the way his mind worked wasn't exactly normal. "Sorry, Bobby," he said at last, pulling the paper towards him. "Guess I forgot." He made a couple of meticulous notes on the graph. Wasn't like it would hurt any, and he was conscious that Bobby was giving him a long and considering look.

He reached back up to the safe and Bobby was standing at his elbow and he was suddenly conscious that Bobby's eyes were fixed on his arm. He glanced down at it himself and instinctively, futilely, he tried to pull down the sleeve of his t-shirt to cover the scars. The movement seemed to alert Bobby and he smiled reassuringly at Rusty and walked quickly over to the other side of the room, staring down at the papers on the desk.

Rusty turned his attention back to the safe. Bobby hadn't seen anything, he told himself comfortingly. The scars were faint; you really had to look for them to be sure they were there. Danny saw them sometimes, but no one else ever did.

Or maybe, _maybe _Bobby had seen them and just hadn't cared. Like he'd said to Danny, maybe it just wasn't such a big deal. His fingers traced unconsciously over the marks on his arm. Not to anyone else, anyway.

"The bar's getting crowded," Danny remarked cheerfully, walking down the stairs with three cokes, and looking Rusty up and down quickly, searching for the slightest hint of ruffledness.

He shot Danny a quick and reassuring smile and took the coke, laying it to one side and concentrating on the safe again and he was barely aware of time passing.

"Think we should call a halt," Bobby said eventually, clearing his throat, and Rusty was still crouched in front of the safe, the stethoscope pressed to the lock.

He wanted to protest, for a moment, that they still had time, that he wanted to keep going. But they were here on Bobby's sufferance, and it wasn't his place to insist. "Of course," he agreed, standing up smoothly.

"I thought we'd go get some dinner," Bobby went on. "My treat."

Rusty frowned. "Bobby – " he protested.

" – you've done well today," Bobby interrupted, nodding at the safe. "You're doing better than I ever expected. Don't you think that's worth dinner at least?"

Huh. That was pretty much exactly the reasoning that Bobby had used last time, in Chicago, once they'd got through with their pick pocket lessons. Same tone too. Gruff and off-handed, but Bobby _meant _it, and it made it so difficult to stay detached, so difficult to keep his guard up, to not _believe. _

Praise and pride, and Danny was staring at Bobby, and Rusty could _see _the words slipping through his defences.

Better to be grateful than to take that away from Danny. (_From both of them._)

"Sure – "

" – thanks, Bobby."

* * *

Over dinner, Bobby told them stories. Started out as simple advice about different safes they might come across, different safes that Bobby had encountered, but somehow, soon enough, Bobby was telling them about cons he'd pulled, jobs he'd been involved in, things that had been fantastic and things that had gone spectacularly wrong.

They were entranced.

This was a whole world they'd barely been aware of, and for every story that Danny listened to, wondering what he would have done differently, wondering if he would have thought of anything as good, he knew that Rusty was sitting there, absorbing techniques and technicalities, and planning how to put them into action.

Stories that made them smile, stories that made them laugh, and in all of them there was a common theme. At each new beginning, Bobby explained why the mark. No innocent victims. It seemed important.

Danny thought here was a rule he could follow. _They _would follow.

Over coffee for him and Bobby, and hot chocolate for Rusty, Bobby grew more serious. "We're going to break in to your Uncle's place tomorrow, I'm going to need an address," he said in a low voice, checking that no one was near. "I'm going to need to go and check it out. Find a way in."

Danny looked at him evenly. "We already have a way in," he said simply. Did Bobby really think they'd be talking about breaking in somewhere without having a plan?

Bobby nodded, frowning. "Have you ever broken in anywhere before?"

He exchanged a quick look with Rusty wondering, worrying. It wasn't the biggest secret they had, but it was still something between the two of them. Something outsiders didn't know. Something that could be used against them.

They were asking Bobby to trust _them... _

"Yes – " he said at last.

" – a few times," Rusty finished. "The school, a couple of shops, someone's house once or twice."

"Just when we have to," Danny said, and he wasn't sure whether or not Bobby would disapprove and he wasn't sure whether or not he cared.

Another nod. "You steal things?"

"Sometimes," Danny agreed carefully. "When we have to."

"Money, mostly," Rusty clarified and Danny nodded his agreement. Mostly, money was what they needed.

"Hmmm." Bobby smiled at them warmly. "Okay. Listen. Leo in the bar, he's a fence. You know what that means?"

Not really.

"Someone who buys stolen goods," Rusty said, not looking at him.

_Oh. _Oh, that sounded intriguing.

"Exactly," Bobby agreed, with a further smile. "He's already been introduced to you. And because he trusts the guy that sent me to him, he'll trust you. You ever get something that isn't money that you want to sell, go to him. He'll give you a fair price."

Possibilities were already dancing through Danny's head. Whole new options that they'd never even had a chance to consider. It was going to be amazing. "_Thank you,_" he said, and he saw Bobby blink at the smile.

"It's nothing," Bobby said, sounding a little uncomfortable. "Now, how were you planning on breaking into your uncle's house?"

"Conservatory door," he said immediately. "He's got a burglar alarm, but the conservatory was built _after _it was installed, and that door isn't wired up." He'd realised that at the time and he'd never really considered that it might be useful. Hell, he'd tried to point it out to Uncle Harold and he'd been told to stay quiet and mind his own business before he'd been able to get the words out.

Bobby was nodding approvingly. "And where's the study?"

"On the ground floor," Rusty said. "I could draw some floor plans tomorrow, so you could memorise the layout before we go in, if that would help?" His hand crept up towards his mouth, and Danny froze at the familiar contemplative gesture.

The bruise. The make-up. All about to be wiped away.

He reached out without even thinking about it, grabbing Rusty's hand and Rusty's eyes met his in a moment of pure astonishment.

"Do you think that Uncle Harold locks the study door?" he asked, urgency forced into his voice, a sudden moment of panicky revelation, and his eyes were telling Rusty something completely different.

He watched the realisation of what he'd been about to do dawn in Rusty's eyes. "There's no lock on the door," Rusty told him, for Bobby's benefit.

"Oh." He let go of Rusty's hand, a little shakily. Physical contact, and that was strange for two teenage boys. They'd learned that lesson already. And he thought he'd covered the moment, but still he looked down at his coffee, not wanting to look at Bobby, just in case he hadn't, just in case he looked up to see the same disgust that Richard had displayed.

"The floor plans would be helpful, Rusty, thank you," Bobby said, like nothing had happened.

"No problem," Rusty agreed amicably.

"How many people are in the house?" Bobby asked.

"Just Uncle Harold," Danny answered promptly. "He lives alone and Rosamund, his housekeeper, just comes in days. And he takes a sleeping pill every night at ten and is dead to the world till seven the next morning."

He knew that beyond all doubt. Last year, in the months after Dad, when he'd been having so much trouble sleeping, Uncle Harold had told Mom that she should get the same thing for Danny. Sleeping pills and valium. He'd even given Mom the name of a doctor, and Danny knew Mom had been considering it. And he knew that they were just trying to help him, but still, the very thought had made him shiver.

"Good," Bobby said, sounding satisfied. "That should make things easier." He smiled at them again, and the look in his eyes... "You really have done a good job."

He felt strangely warm inside.

* * *

First thing he did, when he got settled into his hotel room, was call home.

"Hi, Molly," he said as soon as she answered the phone. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, everything's fine," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I just got Linus off to sleep. And I only had to play peekaboo twenty times tonight."

"Good, good. How is he?" he asked anxiously.

She laughed. "No different from how he was this morning," she said teasingly. "Perfect in every detail."

"Can't blame a man for worrying," he said gruffly. "And how are you?"

"Also perfect in every detail," she answered immediately.

"No arguments here," he told her lovingly.

Her voice grew serious. "How are the boys?"

He sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Physically they seemed fine." He heard her breathe a sigh of relief and he wasn't so sure that he wanted to say the rest. "But I saw some scars on Rusty's arm. They were old...a few years at least. I don't know – "

" – but you think someone hurt him," Molly whispered.

"Yes." He closed his eyes. He'd known, looking at Rusty's arm, that there could be a thousand perfectly innocent explanations and somehow his mind had only shown him the wrong and the violent. And he'd seen the way Rusty had tried to cover it up, self-conscious and ashamed, and he'd had to walk away, too afraid of letting his anger show. Same outrage he was feeling now. Rusty was thirteen. A child. Anyone who would hurt him was a monster. The sort of unfeeling animal that Bobby had joined the FBI to put away.

A second's pause and his voice was steady as he continued. "But the rest...I just don't know. They don't trust me." He paused. "They want to break into Danny's uncle's safe, in order to plant a memo that will shorten a business deal so that his uncle won't get Danny a scholarship to a school out of state."

"That sounds complicated," she said, after a second. "They really thought of all that themselves?"

"Yeah." He let a hint of the pride that he had absolutely no right to suffuse his voice. "I told you they were exceptional."

"Danny doesn't want to go to this school?" she asked uneasily.

"No," he said, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that either. He was helping a teenager go against his family's wishes, after all. He could imagine how he'd feel if someone did the same with Linus. On the other hand – "I don't think it's just teenage pique, Molly. The way they were talking...it sounded like there was something else at the back of it. I want to help them. I don't want to just dismiss them out of hand." He had a feeling that too many people had done that already.

"And you think they're exceptional," Molly put in knowingly.

He smiled. "You should have seen them with the safe this afternoon, Molly! They're amazing. Naturals, both of them. And the way they work together..." He shook his head blindly. "I don't know the last time I saw a partnership so close."

"Really?" Molly said, and there was a hint of surprise in her voice and a hint of consideration.

"They know the differences don't matter," Bobby went on, almost talking to himself. "I told you that Danny's three years older. And he seems to come from more money. Their clothes, the way they talk..." The differences weren't obvious, but they were there. "And none of it matters."

"I think I'd like to meet them some day," Molly said thoughtfully.

"If they decide to stay in our world, they're going to be the best," he told her. He was absolutely sure of it. But they were kids and that was a big _if _and they had years until they were finished with school. Then, they'd see.

Molly's voice brought him back to the present. "So what now?"

The smile faded. "I need to win their trust. And I need to be sure that they're really alright."

"How are you going to do that?" she asked practically.

"Thought I'd try asking," he said lightly.

* * *

It was dark in Danny's bedroom and neither of them were sleeping.

"What do you think?" Rusty asked at last, and Danny turned to face him.

"What do _you _think?" he countered at once.

Rusty sighed and even though he couldn't see, Danny knew that his fingers were rubbing round the outside of his mouth. Didn't matter now; the make-up was already removed. Tiffany had been very specific about that. Apparently if Rusty left it on overnight, he'd get spots. Somehow, the bruise had looked so much worse when it had reappeared.

"I...I think he's on the level, Danny," Rusty said at last. "I don't know what he's getting out of this, but I don't think he wants our money and I don't think he wants to hurt us."

Danny frowned. "That investment – " he started to object.

" – I think he meant it," Rusty cut in. "And so do you."

He closed his eyes. Yeah. Yeah, he did. If Bobby really wanted their money, why did he look so surprised when they told him how much they had. It had sounded like an elegant con, and it had made so much more sense than the alternative – Danny had been _sure_. Truth of the matter, though, was that two teenage boys made for lousy marks. Bobby had no way of knowing that they had more than pocket change. And Bobby had told Rusty that money wasn't important, and he'd insisted on paying for everything, and it felt like he'd meant it. And all those stories...Bobby's marks had it coming. And they might lie, cheat and steal on a regular basis, but Danny still didn't think they were the bad guys. Not enough to justify it to Bobby, anyway.

(_And then there was the look in Bobby's eyes when he'd smiled at them and the understanding and appreciation that he'd grown to only expect from Rusty, but that was something to be locked away and never thought of again._)

"Yeah," he admitted at last, heavily. "Yeah, I think he meant it." Inexplicable but true.

"It doesn't change anything," Rusty said firmly. "Maybe he's expecting us to pay him back later. Long term favour, or something. We can't trust him."

"It doesn't change anything," Danny agreed. "People can be like – that – and turn round and change a moment later. We can't trust him."

_(He wasn't thinking of his Dad, he wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't._)

Rusty's hand crept into his. "'s the right call," Rusty whispered. "Right?"

"Right," Danny said, after a moment.

They couldn't trust Bobby. But that didn't mean they couldn't like him.

* * *

They'd agreed to meet in the bar first thing in the morning.

Bobby had lain awake for a long time, figuring out his next moves. He thought he had a plan for the day.

To start with, he got to the bar early, knowing that Leo would be there. He'd agreed to come by to open the place up. And it gave him the opportunity to have a quiet word.

"I'm leaving town tomorrow," he said, leaning on the bar and looking Leo in the eyes. "Danny and Rusty might be coming by sometimes to practice with the safe."

Leo pursed his lips doubtfully. "You'd need to check with Monty. He might not like having a couple of kids running around the place. It's a good way for him to lose his license you know."

"Way Jacques tells it, Monty listens to you," Bobby said, not taking his eyes off Leo's. Jacques had promised him that Leo could be trusted, more or less, but that he didn't like to make any sort of commitment. And Bobby needed a commitment.

"Well, yes," Leo admitted. "Okay. You can tell the brats that they can come play with that old safe to their heart's content. Long as they come in during the day, anyway."

"I will. Thank you." He nodded and he couldn't quite let it go unremarked. "And their names are Danny and Rusty."

"Yeah, sure. Sorry." Leo looked at him curiously. "They mean a lot to you, huh."

He started to grin. "You sure you've never been in town before? Say, sixteen years ago?"

"No!" Bobby said glaring coldly, as the implication hit him. "Certainly not."

Leo actually took a couple of steps back. "Sorry," he muttered. "Didn't mean anything. They seem like good kids, anyway."

They were. "I told them that you're a fence," he said after a moment. "I said you'd buy anything they were looking to sell." He lowered his voice. "If they do, make sure you give them a fair price. I would be very upset if I heard that you'd taken advantage of them."

"I wouldn't do that," Leo insisted, sounding genuinely outraged. "Cheating kids isn't my style."

Bobby looked at him carefully and honestly, he believed him. He nodded, satisfied. "That's alright then." He hesitated. "Like you said, they're good kids. But they are just kids. You see anything that worries you...you ever think they're in trouble, you let me know, okay?"

Leo looked unhappy. "Look, I don't go around carrying tales – "

He spoke quickly and sincerely. " – I don't want to know if they're misbehaving, I don't want to know if they're smoking or drinking or whatever. I don't want to know if they're plotting to steal a new corvette or the crown jewels. I want to know if they're hurt. I want to know if they're in over their heads. You can do that."

A slow nod. "I can do that." Leo looked at him curiously. "They're that good?"

"They're that good," Bobby confirmed.

"Huh." Leo grinned. "Now I'm kinda looking forward to seeing what they grow into."

Yeah. Him and Bobby both. "And I don't want them drinking in here," he offered as a parting shot.

* * *

At Rusty's insistence they'd stopped by MacDonald's on the way to the bar. Got enough for three. Actually, by anyone else's standards, they'd probably got enough for five, and Danny had struggled not to laugh at the bemused expression on Bobby's face watching Rusty eat. He was almost certain that Bobby was wondering where Rusty _put _it all. Like a very strange conjuring trick.

Still, they'd bought Bobby breakfast, and Bobby hadn't made a big deal of it, and everything seemed a little easier than yesterday. More relaxed. After all, they'd got through yesterday without anything bad happening, and breakfast this morning was accompanied by good humour and easy laughter.

Afterwards, and Rusty settled down at the desk with a ream of paper, ready to draw out the floor plans.

Danny headed back to the safe, ready for some more practice.

Bobby joined him. "Would have thought you'd be drawing the plans," he commented. "It is your uncle's place – I'd have thought you would have been there more often."

It was a good point. "We were both there just the other day," he offered evasively. "And Rusty's better at drawing."

Nodding, Bobby didn't comment further, and Danny concentrated on trying to get the safe open. It was difficult. Didn't feel like he'd lost any ground since yesterday, but didn't feel like he'd gained any either.

"Take your time," Bobby told him gently. "Don't force the dial round."

He nodded and tried again. He couldn't help but hope that Rusty got finished soon and came over. It was always easier to learn things together.

Time passed, and he couldn't get the second tumbler, no matter how hard he tried, and his tongue was between his teeth, and he suddenly realised that Bobby was looking at him. Had been for some time.

He risked a glance up. Bobby was looking thoughtful. And uncomfortable. Like something was on his mind.

Naturally, Bobby caught him looking. "Danny – " he began, sounding troubled, and Danny knew what was coming.

"This the part where you ask me why we're doing this?" he asked in a low voice. He'd been expecting this, and really, it was a good question. Bobby was putting himself through a lot to get Danny out of a full scholarship to a prestigious high school. He'd want a reason why.

"Something like that," Bobby agreed.

The only problem was, the only reason that Danny could give was the truth.

He glanced over to where Rusty was sitting at the desk, concentration and focus brought to life, and even though Rusty was facing the other way, he had to keep this conversation low key, had to keep Rusty from picking up on even the smallest hint of disquiet. Tall order.

"I can't lose him," he said simply.

He heard Bobby sigh and he wasn't going to wait for Bobby to tell him he was being overdramatic. Swallowing hard, he looked across at Rusty again. "My Dad died last year," he said quietly. "Just a few weeks after we'd met you, actually."

A sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Danny, I'm sorry," Bobby said, his voice low and sympathetic, understanding and absolute sincerity.

He waved the concern away. Not the point. "I'm over it now," he said. "But at the time I pretty much fell apart. Don't know what I'd have done without Rusty. I mean, I _really_ don't know what I'd have done. They told me and all I could think about was getting to Rusty. I needed..." He shook his head. "I don't know how I'd have coped without him. I don't think I would have. I don't know how other people manage." How could anyone go through life on their own?

He turned and faced Bobby, looking at him levelly. "If I go away to this school it'll mean being away from Rusty for most of the year."

Bobby nodded slowly and Danny was trying so hard to read the expression on his face. Not disapproval. Least he didn't think so. And he was feeling a little uncomfortable with what he'd revealed, but he'd felt like he had to make Bobby understand how real this was, how important.

"I don't think I can live with that," he added softly, turning back to face the safe.

There was silence.

He didn't look round at Bobby. He'd heard that kind of silence before.

"This the part where you tell me that I'm too young to feel that strongly?" he hissed, the old anger running through him. "That this is just a childish phase, and I'll forget all about him in time? That I shouldn't throw away an opportunity because of some stupid idea about friendship? That if I go away to this school I'll make new friends my own age and background?"

He was almost shaking with fury now. And if Bobby so much as suggested, if Bobby even _implied _that he could do better than Rusty, Danny was going to hit him. He didn't care about the age difference, or the height difference, or the fact that Bobby could probably take him on with one hand tied behind his back. He wasn't going to listen to that again.

A soft choked sound and Bobby _was _staring at him, but it was concern and horror, and Danny felt the anger melt away into confusion. "No!" Bobby managed to say at last, in a harsh whisper. "God, no. Who told you that?"

He shrugged uneasily. Mom. Dad. The bastard Attwood. A few other people.

Rusty was looking round at them now, too far away to hear, but the concern and anxiety were written all over his face. With a look, Danny told him to stay back, that everything was just fine. And Rusty didn't look happy, and Danny knew they'd be talking about this later, but right now he had to focus on Bobby.

Bobby's hand was on his shoulder. "Listen, Danny," he said, his voice soft and intent. "There's nothing more important than the people you care about. Don't ever let anyone tell you different. Rusty _matters _to you, and you matter to him. You have something special. And that's worth more than some people will ever understand."

Danny couldn't keep the wonder from his eyes.

"You couldn't talk to your Mom about the high school?" Bobby added and the casual tone was hiding something.

Danny was about to protest, to argue that it wasn't his fault, that he'd tried and she wouldn't listen, but he stopped himself in time. Right. Bobby wasn't asking because he thought that Danny could do better. Bobby was looking for an answer to a completely different question.

Oh, he had to nip this in the bud right away. He wasn't mistreated and he didn't want Bobby looked at him like he was a kid.

"She wants what's best for me," he said carefully, fixing Bobby with a knowing look. "It's just that we disagree on what _is _best for me." That sounded reasonable to him.

Bobby wasn't looking quite convinced.

Danny shrugged. "I could throw some tantrum. Insist that I don't want to move schools." He grinned. "It's not exactly my style though. I'd rather avoid upsetting her and just arrange things the way I want."

"I see," Bobby said slowly.

"She's busy," he added persuasively. "She's got a lot on at work, and she's got a new boyfriend and they're spending a lot of time together – she's away a lot. I prefer to keep the arguments to a minimum. Just do what I need to."

"I see," Bobby said again, frowning.

He smiled some more and tried again. "Sometimes she thinks I'm still a kid, that's all," he said easily. "Think it's fairly typical for parents, really." There was nothing for Bobby to worry about and he concentrated on broadcasting that.

For a moment he thought that Bobby was going to tell him that he _was _still a kid. Thankfully, Bobby just shook his head and sighed. "I'm going to help you with the safe, Danny. I said I would and I don't go back on my word." He looked Danny right in the eyes. "Anything you need, anything at all, you tell me and I'll do my best to help you."

Bobby's words were burning with truth, and Danny looked back to the safe quickly, fighting to keep the secrets inside. When Bobby looked at him like that, just for a moment, Danny wanted to tell him everything. To say what his Mom was really like, to share every detail of Rusty's life, to ask Bobby to make it all _stop._

"I'll remember that," he said quickly, and astoundingly, his voice was steady and when his hands gripped the lock, they weren't trembling. "Let's see if I can get this."

* * *

Rusty was almost certain that he was on the brink of a breakthrough and had been for the last two hours. He was going to get the trick to this any moment now and he knelt in front of the safe with single-minded determination while Bobby perused the plans he'd drawn at the desk behind him.

Danny had gone out to find them some food. And that was the best evidence Rusty had that whatever had gone on between Danny and Bobby earlier it wasn't anything too bad. Even though he'd got nothing other than a quick reassuring glance and a mouthed promise of '_later' _he knew that Danny wouldn't have left him alone with Bobby if he had any doubts. But Danny had been upset and Rusty didn't know why. He'd wanted to get closer, to get involved but Danny had warned him away and they'd been deliberately talking too soft for him to hear, and he hadn't been able to get closer without them noticing.

He'd seen Bobby put his hand on Danny's shoulder though. He'd read the expression on Danny's face.

Moments when Danny looked like that were rare. To be treasured.

Made it very difficult to remember that they weren't supposed to trust Bobby.

He sighed. He needed to focus. He almost had it.

Eyes closed, he _listened _and visualised each turn of the wheel, each movement of the tumblers each number falling into place. He could do this.

A moment later and he was staring into the inside of the safe for the first time.

_Fantastic._

The grin spread and automatically he was standing up, checking to see if Danny was back because he wanted to share in the moment and triumph was never so sweet alone.

He stood and half turned.

All he was aware of was someone standing close behind him, towering over him.

Instinct took over, memories of a hundred similar moments telling him that there was danger, insisting there'd be pain, reminding him he couldn't hope to fight back.

He flinched backwards violently, and his leg caught against the open safe door and he fell to the ground awkwardly.

He stayed down for a second, despite the instincts screaming at him to get up and run while he could, or to curl up and hide from steel-toed boots and harsh kicks.

Deep breaths.

When he looked up, Bobby was standing well back, his hands spread wide and unthreatening, deliberately keeping them where Rusty could see. "Are you alright? Rusty, did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine," he said calmly, getting to his feet and dusting himself off with a nonchalant effort. "I got the safe open!"

"Well done," Bobby said, but he didn't sound like he meant it and he didn't sound like he cared. "Are you _sure _you're not hurt?" he added anxiously.

"Nah, I'm good," Rusty said with an easy, embarrassed smile, and he absolutely wasn't thinking about how familiar the look in Bobby's eyes was. (_A pale echo of the one that Danny wore far too often._) Fuck, this was no good. He didn't want Bobby looking at him like that. He didn't want Bobby _thinking _of him like that. "Just lost my balance, that's all."

Bobby didn't look like he believed that was 'all' for a moment. Wasn't like Rusty blamed him for that, he had a clear idea of exactly how he'd just looked. All that effort they'd put in to convincing Bobby that they were independent adults, and he'd gone and ruined it in one stupid, cowardly moment.

Hell, it wasn't even like Bobby had any reason to be mad at him – he hadn't done anything wrong and he really didn't think that Bobby was the sort of man who'd hit him for no reason.

Maybe he could still salvage this.

God, he hoped Danny wasn't coming back any time soon.

He sighed heavily and leaned back against the safe, meeting Bobby's eyes evenly. "Okay, Bobby. Just ask the question. I know you want to."

"I _have _to," Bobby answered heavily.

Rusty kept the spark of anger and disappointment hidden. He didn't want Bobby thinking that he couldn't look after himself. He should be stronger than this.

"Is...is someone hurting you?" Bobby asked hesitantly. "Your parents?"

"No," Rusty answered immediately, and he wished Bobby would just take his word for it.

Bobby nodded and he was standing on the other side of the room, giving Rusty all the room he could want, and Rusty might be annoyed at being treated like glass, but it was making this a lot easier. "I saw the scars on your arm. And you panicked when I grabbed you in Chicago. And you flinched away when I stood too close."

Damn. He wished Bobby hadn't brought up the scars. He wished Bobby hadn't brought up _any _of this. Fuck, none of it mattered to Bobby. Why couldn't he just leave him alone?

For a moment he considered lying. The scars, well, could be a hundred explanations. And anyone might panic when they were caught pickpocketing. And maybe Bobby had just startled him. All of that had worked before. Often before. People didn't _want _to know the truth, he knew that. They just felt they had to ask the question. Prurient interest or some sense of obligation, and Rusty got along just fine, thank you.

But so far Bobby had proved to be observant and Rusty wasn't prepared to bet that he wouldn't see through the lies. And being _caught _lying was worse than telling the truth.

A certain amount of truth. He could do this.

"No one's hurting me," he said again. "Now_._" And that was a truth for a start. Right now, right in this moment, he was just fine.

"_Now?" _Bobby repeated sharply.

He glanced down. Took a moment to brush an invisible piece of dirt from his shirt. He had to make Bobby think he was unwilling to share this. A reluctant revelation, and Bobby wouldn't think there was anything else.

Of course, he _didn't _want to share this.

"My Mom doesn't live with us anymore," he said, and he told himself that the tremor in his voice was entirely deliberate and under his control. "But when I was a kid she was..._difficult _to live with."

"I'm sorry, Rusty," Bobby said gently. "She hurt you, didn't she."

Oh, this was...he didn't talk about this. He didn't. This was hell.

A little bit of truth. Just enough to hide the ugliness.

"She had...issues," he said carefully. "She didn't know what she was doing. And when she got upset or frustrated, she'd lash out and sometimes I was in the way."

There. That should be alright. Didn't sound like it was Mom's fault, didn't sound like it was Rusty's fault, and that was important. Bad enough that he had to let Bobby think of him as a helpless child without having Bobby wonder if he'd deserved it.

"She shouldn't have done that," Bobby told him, his eyes intent. "It doesn't matter what the excuse was, she was wrong to hurt you."

Fuck. He really didn't want Bobby thinking like that.

He shrugged and grinned lightly. "It was a long time ago," he said lightly. "She left when I was nine. I got these scars the night she left. Dad promised that she'll never come back." And that was true. Not for his sake, of course, never for his sake, but he'd let Bobby think that Dad was protecting him.

Just for a second, there was a look in Bobby's eyes that made Rusty glad that there was no chance that Bobby would ever meet Mom. "And your Dad – " Bobby began after a second.

" – he has to work hard to make ends meet," Rusty said, looking Bobby straight in the eye. "He's away a lot. I help out where I can. Try not to take care of myself as much as I can." He tried to concentrate on showing Bobby that he wasn't a child, that he knew what he was doing. "I get along just fine."

Bobby looked at him for a long moment, and Rusty couldn't quite figure out the expression on his face. "You know you deserve more than this."

He couldn't keep the wonder from his eyes. He tried his best though. "Now you sound like Danny," he said lightly.

"Good," Bobby said simply.

"When Mom was around, I always had to be on my toes," Rusty told him seriously. "Old habits die hard, is all. I'm getting over it. Danny's helping."

"Good," Bobby said again. "You think a lot of Danny, don't you?"

"Danny's amazing," he said simply and then his head was on one side and his eyes were bright. "What were you two talking about earlier?"

Bobby blinked. "What?"

"I don't want Danny hurt. Ever." He was standing up straight now, and he might not look intimidating in any of the traditional ways, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

"I don't have any intention of hurting either of you," Bobby said after a second, his voice rough and sincere.

Rusty nodded and a second later the door opened and Danny reappeared carrying coffee and sandwiches, and Rusty gestured to the open safe door with a grin and Danny's face lit up with pride and delight.

Everything Rusty wanted.

Bobby was smiling now too, and as Danny started asking questions – the hows and whens – all the admiration and congratulations that had been missing before were very much in evidence, and all the tension of a few moments ago had been wiped away.

Good. He was pretty sure he'd got away with that.

* * *

Waiting was dull but necessary and at least Bobby was used to it.

There had been part of him – foolishly, after everything he'd seen – that had been dreading waiting in a car with two teenagers. He was almost certain that kids were supposed to have short attention spans.

Not these kids apparently.

They were talking in low voices when they talked at all, just as content as Bobby to give it another hour from the moment the last light had gone out.

He was impressed all over again. Felt like it was for the hundredth time that weekend.

Both Danny and Rusty had managed to get the safe open that afternoon. And by the time Bobby had reset the combination that last time they were able, by a joint effort, to get it open in just over ninety minutes. Oh, that was still too long for him to want them trying it for real, but still. He hadn't truly been expecting them to get it this weekend. They really were remarkable.

The raw natural talent, that was one thing. That was something to be wondered at. Marvelled over. Celebrated. Their maturity and self-control – oh, that was something else altogether. He was concerned – frightened – that came from somewhere darker in life.

Bobby was good at reading between the lines, and even though he was feeling much happier than he might have been, there was still plenty to trouble him. Both boys had been at pains to emphasise how independent they were. Not just in the headstrong way of teenagers. Danny had spoken of his Mom like she was a distant acquaintance that took no responsibility for him whatsoever. And it hadn't escaped Bobby's notice that when Danny had been telling him about the time after his father died he'd made it sound like without Rusty he'd have had _nothing_. And when Rusty had been talking about his father...there'd been respect in his voice, but no warmth.

He had top think that the boys didn't get a while lot of attention and even less love.

He could only be glad that they had each other.

As for Rusty's mom...God, he wished he could get his hands on the woman. He didn't know exactly what she'd done and he guessed he never would, but whatever it was, to leave such a lasting mark, to have Rusty still jumping at shadows four years later...it must have been bad. It must have been very bad indeed.

He'd seen children flinch away from him before. During the cases that gave him nightmares for weeks afterwards, he'd seen kids who'd long passed the point of believing that adults could do anything but hit and hurt. And yeah, those times he would step back and let someone more qualified take over, but he still should have known better. God, he'd _never _meant to scare Rusty like that. He'd just assumed that Rusty had known he was there. He'd made enough noise, he just hadn't accounted for the sheer level of concentration Rusty was displaying.

Next time he'd be more careful.

And there was going to be a next time. He was going to make it clear to the boys that "Call me if you need anything" meant just that. They could trust him.

"That's an hour," Danny said softly as the clock on the dashboard ticked over the last second.

"So it is," Bobby agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

He was breaking into his uncle's house. Honestly, this ranked fairly high on the list of things he'd never thought he'd do. Might be his plan and they might not be stealing anything but there was still something distasteful about it all. And somehow, if they were caught, he didn't think that Uncle Harold would give credit to the argument that they weren't stealing anything so that made it okay. Actually, if they got caught, Bobby being here could only make it worse. Just them and maybe, _maybe _they could have claimed they were just pulling some prank. And there would have been anger and disappointment and he had no doubt that Mom would have done her best to make sure he never saw Rusty again, but there was no way the police would have got involved. If Bobby was caught alongside them, all bets were off.

He just had to make sure they weren't caught. Bobby had listened to their plans and he seemed confident. And they might never have needed any kind of outside validation before, but he had to admit it _was _kinda nice.

He hung back as Rusty crouched to pick the lock of the conservatory door, automatically taking his usual position, keeping look-out and watching Rusty's back, as it should be.

With a sudden realisation he glanced at Bobby. Bobby had just assumed that they could get the door open. Oh, they were trusted. He smiled.

A second later and Rusty straightened up and tried the handle and the door opened silently.

Good.

Once inside they walked in silent single file through to the study and, without a word being exchanged, Danny was wedging the door shut and Rusty was checking the window. If it was opened it'd set off the alarm, but they'd figured it was still their best alternative exit. If someone was trying to get through the door, the alarm wasn't going to make a whole lot of difference.

Once they'd exchanged a glance, reassuring each other that they were secure for the moment, they turned their attention to Bobby, crouched in front of the safe, the stethoscope already pressed against the door.

"Like I said," Bobby told them in a low voice. "This safe actually has one less tumbler than the one we practiced on. So it's easier. But the locking mechanism is actually in a different place. It's a little higher. Just keep listening till you find it."

Danny nodded, making a mental note, and carried on watching as Bobby dealt with the safe. This time, when it wasn't for a demonstration, when Bobby wasn't taking the time to go over each step for their benefit, the process seemed even more fantastic and impossible than before.

He wondered if they'd ever find it that easy, that instinctive.

"Practice," Rusty murmured in his ear and Danny nodded vehemently at the suggestion.

Oh, they would.

Fifteen minutes. That was all the time it took, and the briefcase was sitting right in the middle of the safe and Danny lifted it out carefully. He laid it down on the corner of the desk and carefully flipped it open, and Rusty stepped forwards holding the rewritten memo between two gloved fingers, and he gingerly pushed it up against the corner of the briefcase where Uncle Harold couldn't help but see it, but where it looked like it had just got shoved accidently. He had absolute confidence that Uncle Harold would find it _far _easier to believe that he'd overlooked the memo than believing that his nephew had broken into his house in the middle of the night, cracked his safe and planted a forged document. On the whole, Danny was pretty satisfied that this sort of thing just didn't _happen _in the world Uncle Harold thought he lived in.

Smiling, he replaced the briefcase in the safe.

"Little to the left," Rusty told him softly.

Danny nodded and shifted it slightly and shot Rusty an enquiring glance. Apparently confident, Rusty nodded. Good. Unless Uncle Harold had a mind that worked like Rusty's - unlikely – he'd probably have never noticed the difference, but as long as perfection was possible why in the world would he settle for anything less?

They stood back and Bobby carefully closed and reset the safe.

"Combination is 4012," he told them in a low voice. "Just in case you ever need it again."

Impossible to imagine why they would. But then last week they'd never have imagined they'd need it in the first place.

They made their way out of Uncle Harold's house and Danny was confident that they hadn't left a single trace that they'd been there and the pride and exhilaration was burning deep inside him, and when he met Rusty's eyes he could see the same fierce joy.

They had done as much as they could and they had done as well as he could imagine.

Now they could only wait and hope and pray that the plan worked.

* * *

Bobby had insisted on driving them back to Danny's place despite all their protests to the contrary, that it wasn't necessary and they didn't want to put Bobby out, that they were perfectly fine getting the bus or even walking.

Somehow Bobby hadn't looked at all impressed with either of those ideas and Rusty bit back on telling him that he'd done it plenty of times before.

All their arguments were a little hard to win when they'd already told Bobby that he would be staying at Danny's and that Danny's Mom was off at Richard's again.

"You want to come in?" Danny asked as Bobby pulled up into the driveway and Rusty could hear the hopeful smile in his voice.

Yeah. The last couple of days had been something special. Even with everything they were hiding, even with all the fear and doubt and uncertainty, just being taken seriously, just the suggestion that they had impressed, that they were liked and respected...oh, it was flattering, no doubt about it. Flattering to him. Sunlight to Danny. And Rusty could smile because Danny stood tall.

Bobby hesitated. "Sure. Why not?" he said at last.

"'s got to be a habit," Danny said as they headed to the front door. "After we've done anything – interesting – we always seem to stay up half the night."

"I think most people do," Bobby suggested, a small smile gracing his face. "The night after a really major job can go for days, drinking, smoking, playing cards."

"Well. Two out of three," Rusty mused.

"You're really too young to smoke," Bobby commented half-heartedly.

Uh huh. They all knew why that made him a hypocrite.

Bobby sighed. "It's bad for you."

"We know," Rusty said levelly.

"Talking of drinks, do you want one?" Danny asked brightly, standing in the living room door and glancing over towards the drinks cabinet.

Oh, probably _not _a good idea. Rusty wouldn't be at all surprised if Danny's Mom had the level in every bottle memorised, just in case. And he doubted that she'd accept that Danny was just being a good host.

Thankfully, and unsurprisingly, Bobby demurred. "Nah. I'm driving and I've got to head in to work at some point tomorrow. I'll take a cup of coffee if you're offering."

Danny nodded and vanished into the kitchen.

Rusty eyed Bobby curiously. "Work?" he asked, because he'd figured that this was Bobby's job and the hours were flexible.

"I'm an FBI agent," Bobby said nonchalantly.

For a second Rusty stared hard, looking for even the slightest hint that he was being made fun of.

Nothing.

_Huh. _

He grinned. "Bet you love watching people's faces when you say that."

"It has its moments," Bobby agreed with a snort of laughter.

"What does?" Danny wanted to know, coming back into the room.

"Bobby's an FBI agent," Rusty explained.

"Oh," Danny blinked. "Going to bust us?"

"For anything in particular?" Bobby asked dryly.

Danny pursed his lips. "I'll get back to you."

Bobby laughed and shook his head. "So what card games do you play?"

Ten minutes later and Danny and Bobby were sitting with cups of coffee and Rusty had a mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and poker had been vetoed in favour of blackjack.

They'd never played before and Bobby was shuffling the deck and somehow they'd got on to telling Bobby about teaching the football team to play poker that time, and Bobby was laughing and everything was very much alright in the world.

"So they took three hours to get it?" Bobby asked.

"Longest three hours of my life," Rusty agreed with a grin, and they somehow wandered into telling Bobby all about the spinning wheel in the library, and Bobby quietly suggested that they could cut the power to the alarm, and the guitar and the moment when the roof had fallen in, and Bobby was shaking his head, choked with laughter.

A couple of hands were played and the game seemed simple enough. Bobby had explained that it was all about getting as close to 21 as possible and that all the advantages were with the house, but as Rusty watched the flow of cards, he started to realise something else.

"You don't want to do that," he murmured, leaning in as Danny was about to hit.

Danny looked at him curiously.

"We've had two aces, a jack and a ten," he explained. "And seven low cards. Most likely you're going to get more'n a ten and – "

" – I'll be bust," Danny nodded. "So we've got to keep track of what cards have been played?" He looked at Bobby reproachfully. "You didn't mention that we should be doing that."

For a moment it looked like Bobby was entirely lost for words. He took a couple of deep breaths. "That's...not actually the way you're supposed to play the game," he explained carefully. "Most places call that cheating."

Oh. Rusty looked down at the cards in front of him and wondered exactly how he was supposed to play without knowing what cards were where.

Danny frowned. "So you're saying we shouldn't – "

" – no, I'm saying that you probably don't want to talk about what you're doing out loud," Bobby explained with a small smile. "You need to learn to do it subtly if you want to count cards."

Rusty thought that maybe he wanted to count cards. He leaned forwards. "So how do we do it?"

Bobby shook his head, smiling some more. "Okay. More lessons."

* * *

It was three o'clock before the night wound down and Bobby reluctantly insisted that it was time for him to leave.

"Thank you, Bobby," Danny said with soft sincerity. "We'd have been in real trouble without you. We owe you one." More than one. He had no idea what they'd have done without Bobby, but seemed like they'd have been pretty screwed.

"You don't owe me anything," Bobby said immediately, looking at him and Rusty seriously again. "I helped you because I wanted to and that's an end to it."

"Doesn't mean we're not grateful," Rusty put in. "You've been really great to us."

Bobby nodded. "It's been a pleasure working with you boys. And I want you to call me if you need anything. _Anything,_" he emphasised. "You understand? Not just something like this. If you need me for anything, just call."

They'd asked Bobby for help this once. Danny _really _didn't want to do it again, even if Bobby had turned out to be...well.

(_A friend._)

"Thanks," he said again, softly.

"I'll see you at Leo's in a couple of weeks when the shares pay off."

"_If _the shares pay off," Rusty corrected.

"Right," Bobby agreed. "If they do, I'll see you in a few weeks. Check with Leo."

Right. Danny nodded. They'd probably be seeing Leo again. "Thanks, Bobby. See you."

"Goodbye for now," Bobby said. "Take care of yourselves."

They watched him drive off.

"Well – " Rusty said at last.

" – yeah," Danny agreed.

Strange to think this was over.

He wondered if they'd ever see Bobby again.

With a weary smile and silence, they headed upstairs to bed.

"What were you and Bobby talking about this afternoon?" Rusty asked presently, in the darkness.

Oh. He stared at the gloom, eyes burning just a little, and he thought about what he'd said to Bobby, and about what Rusty meant to him. He sighed softly. "Stuff," he said vaguely.

Rusty was waiting patiently.

He sighed again. "He wanted to know why we had to do this. I told him...I told him about Dad. I told him I want to stay here."

Rusty's hand crept into his.

_I want you to stay with me. _Rusty didn't say it – would maybe _never _say it – but Danny heard it just fine.

He smiled.

* * *

They'd slept for half the day, seemed like, and they'd spent the rest curled up on the living room sofa, staring at meaningless TV, right up until the point when they heard the front door slam shut and that was that.

They were already on their feet when his Mom swept angrily into the room, closely followed by Uncle Harold.

"Hi," Danny began cautiously, careful not to assume, not to annoy. "How was your – "

" – Robert, I think it's time for you to go home," Mom said through thin lips, glaring at Rusty like he was nothing, or less than nothing, and it took the feeling of Rusty's hand resting against his back – where no one could see or know, of course – to keep him quiet and restrained.

"I should think so too," Uncle Harold commented huffily. "Why you let that sort hang around here at all, Barbara – "

Mom glared at _him _and that was unusual for a start.

"Of course, ma'am," Rusty cut in respectfully, before the argument went any further. Not like they didn't already know that _them _arguing would do no good. "I'll see you later, Danny."

Danny nodded, not bothering to say anything, and watched him walk out.

"Your Uncle's deal has fallen through," Mom announced stiffly.

The look of shock and confusion was easy enough. "I'm sorry...?" he offered uncertainly, turning to Uncle Harold who looked faintly irritated.

"It didn't fall through, Barbara," he said exasperatedly, not even looking at Danny. "I just had to move more quickly on it than I'd imagined. I have a job to do. I have to maintain certain priorities."

_Yes! _They'd done it. They'd actually done it. This crazy, impossible plan had worked and he had to fight back the smile.

"And your nephew's education isn't a priority, of course," Mom said, in that cold, disappointed, _vicious _tone that Danny had heard so often, and instinctively he'd taken a step backwards towards the door.

He had to get a hold of himself. "I'm not going to private school?" he asked, with wide-eyed innocent hope.

The look Mom turned on him was very familiar too. "No you're not," she snapped. "You get to stay here with your reprobate friend and carry on coasting along, doing nothing worthwhile. I hope you like being a nobody, Daniel Ocean. Because that's all you'll ever be."

Bitterness and disappointment. That's all it was. She was just taking her anger out on him 'cause he was here. He could excuse that.

(_He could always excuse that._)

"Honestly, Barbara, I have responsibilities," Uncle Harold said, still glaring, and Danny might as well be invisible. "I have to think of the good of the business. Work comes first and don't pretend you don't know that!"

"May I be excused," Danny said with soft haste, because he knew the way things progressed from here and the yelling was just going to go on till Uncle Harold walked out. That was the way it always worked before, and he couldn't imagine it was going to be any different.

"Go," Mom snapped, and, thankful and grateful, he turned tail and ran.

The window was open and Rusty was sitting cross-legged on Danny's bed.

"It worked," Danny told him in a whisper.

Downstairs, Mom was reaching a crescendo of disappointed vitriol.

Danny smiled at Rusty like they were going to last forever.

* * *

It was evening by the time Bobby got home. He'd had to go by the office first - the bureau liked to know what he was doing every now and then.

Molly kissed him tenderly and looked at him critically for a long moment. "I'll put some coffee on. Then you can tell me all about it."

He smiled at her wearily. "Sounds good," he agreed, and as she went into the kitchen, he headed upstairs.

Linus was sleeping and Bobby picked him up very, very carefully, and held him close for a long time.

He stared down at his son, asleep and safe in his arms. "You've got two parents who love you so very much," he whispered. "You're never going to have to fend for yourself like that. I promise."


	34. Trick and Treat

**A/N: Happy Halloween! **

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)  
**

**18. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**19. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**21. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**23. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**24. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

The noticeboard was covered with a forlorn-looking string of dancing skeletons and pumpkins. Well, Danny _guessed _the skeletons were supposed to be dancing. With their hands in the air like that they looked more like they were surrendering.

But the point of all that, he guessed, was to tell them it was Halloween and once again the high school kids were willing to take the younger kids round trick or treating in safety.

"What do you think?" Rusty asked, looking at the noticeboard .

Danny considered. They hadn't done anything for Halloween last year. The week before Rusty had got into trouble over not having a note excusing him from gym class, and Danny had still been getting hassle from Freddy and Kev, and Mom and Dad had been away for the night and an evening spent staying in and _not _having to talk their way out of the fight had been much more tempting than it should have been.

"Candy," Rusty commented decidedly. "Lots and lots of candy. Chocolate and toffee and popcorn and those little buttery things and gingerbread men and candy canes and candy apples and sherbert lemons and marzipan pigs and sugar mice and sugar plums and sugared almonds and sugar snaps and sugar lumps and – "

" – I don't think we're gonna get all that," Danny interrupted, before the recitation went critical. "Specially the sugar lumps. Unless we dress like a horse."

Rusty looked up hopefully.

Danny sighed. "We are _not _dressing up as a horse, Rus'."

"Spoilsport," Rusty grinned. "What are we dressing up as?"

Huh. It was a good question.

* * *

It continued to be a good question for the rest of the week and the suggestions ranged from the boring – ghosts and cowboys and zombies, oh my – to the impossible – giraffes and gargoyles and winged monkeys and musketeers and Bugs Bunny and the Empire State Building.

They wanted something good. And they needed something that didn't cost money.

And that wasn't even the most difficult part. Mom had told him all about the most difficult part at breakfast that morning.

"I'm supposed to go to Mrs Darcey's Halloween party," he told Rusty gloomily, as they lounged against the wall in the playground at recess. "I think," he went on thoughtfully. "I _think _I'd rather kiss a tarantula."

Rusty considered this for a moment. "Think that's an option here?"

"Doubt it," Danny said. Otherwise surely _everyone _would be doing it.

"'sides," Rusty added. "It's a party, right? Party's are good. Free food. Games. Fun."

Danny looked at him. "How many parties have you ever been to?"

"Two," Rusty answered promptly. "There was cake."

He grinned. "Not sure this is going to be that sort of party, Rus'. Apparently there's gonna be a prize for the _prettiest _costume." The grin faded and he shuddered. "Mom went out and bought me this 'Prince Charming' costume. 's got a little shiny crown and buckled shoes and a ruffly blouse and silky tights."

Rusty blinked. "That's not going to suit you."

"Not even a little," Danny nodded. "And Annette and Celete and that crowd are having a dance recital. Annette's dressing up as a butterfly."

"Huh." Rusty received this news solemnly. "Maybe I could dress up as a butterfly."

Danny hesitated. "You could," he agreed slowly. And then they could watch the bigger kids get in line to beat the crap out of them. Might not be as bad as the silky tights and the shiny crown, but it'd be close.

"Ashamed to be seen with me?" Rusty asked lightly.

Oh, that wasn't funny. "_Never," _he said fiercely, and they both knew that according to his Mom and Dad the answer should be _always._

The look on Rusty's face was all things apologetic. "Not a butterfly," was all he said though. "How are we gonna get you out of this party?"

"Was just going to sneak out," Danny said with a shrug. "Shouldn't be too hard."

Rusty frowned.

"No one'll notice whether I'm there or not," Danny assured him. "Least no one who will tell anyone. Mom will be busy with the rest of the hyenas. She always is at this sort of thing. And Dad..." He trailed off and looked away. He tried not to notice what Dad always did at this sort of thing. "One time, a couple of years back, I actually went home after ten minutes and they didn't notice till it was time to go home," he added lightly. "The party starts at six. That's plenty of time for me to get out, get changed and meet you outside the school."

Rusty didn't look happy but he nodded slowly. "So that just leaves – "

" – costumes," Danny agreed, and he groaned as the bell rang.

They still didn't have an answer. And they were running out of time.

* * *

"A robber," Danny said decidedly as they ate dinner at Mabel's. Danny's idea, since his parents were home and there'd been no food in Rusty's house last night or this morning. He was kind of hungry. Besides, Mabel was still running that deal where they got free dessert long as they ate up their main course. And she'd been giving out holiday discounts since it was Halloween tomorrow. Was all good, as far as he was concerned, and he wolfed down his piping hot macaroni cheese happily, and simply raised an eyebrow to encourage Danny to elaborate.

Danny did. "A bank robber," he went on. "With a mask and a striped shirt and a moustache. Bet I'd look tough."

Huh. Rusty considered that for a moment. "How do you grow a moustache?" he wondered.

"Think it takes time," Danny shrugged. "You get fake ones, but I guess they cost money."

He frowned. "So – "

" – so I was thinking permanent marker," Danny explained.

Rusty had a feeling that was a bad idea. "Doesn't 'permanent' mean forever?" he checked cautiously. He was almost certain he'd understood that right.

"Nah," Danny shook his head decidedly. "I got some on my thumb once and it washed off eventually, no problem. Besides, I wouldn't look as much like a bank robber without a fake moustache. And stubble! Like Clint Eastwood."

Huh. Something else to be considered. "Think if I was a robber I wouldn't want to _look _like a robber," he pointed out

Danny frowned. "But if I dress up like a robber who doesn't look like a robber then how would anyone know I'm supposed to be a robber?"

Rusty nodded. It was a good point. "You got a striped shirt, right?"

"Right," Danny agreed with a grin. "And the grocer on the corner has sacks. I figure he'd probably give us one if we asked nice enough."

"So you can write 'swag' on it?" he checked.

"Uh huh," Danny agreed.

He hesitated for a moment. "What _is _swag?"

"Stolen stuff," Danny explained.

He looked down at the remains of his meal. "So we're paying for this food with swag?"

"Guess so," Danny said thoughtfully.

"Huh. Swag tastes good."

There was a noise from behind the counter and they looked up to see Mabel struggling with a couple of boxes.

They were on their feet instantly.

"We got this!" Danny said, grabbing the corner of the topmost box, and Rusty quickly moved to take the other corner and they lowered it to the floor.

Huh. Was full of umbrellas and books and papers and clothes.

"Thank you, boys," Mabel said with a smile. "Now, can I have two strong volunteers to help me carry this out to the door?"

"Sure," Rusty agreed immediately. "What is it, anyway?"

"Oh, all the lost property that's been sitting in the back for years," she explained. "Cathy from my church, she asked if I had anything to donate. She's going to come by and pick it up this evening."

They laid their box down by the door and Mabel put the other one on top of it.

Immediately, Rusty's attention was caught.

He picked up the leather jacket reverently, and carefully draped it over his shoulders. Oh, this was bright with possibility.

Danny was smiling at him. "You look like The Fonz."

"I feel like The Fonz," Rusty agreed. He smiled hopefully up at Mabel. "You think I could borrow this for Halloween, Mabel?"

"Of course, sugar," she said fondly.

* * *

The door was locked and Rusty knocked hopefully and waited for a few moments. He really hoped they were in. And that they were prepared to answer. He really didn't feel like hanging around in the hallway tonight.

He was just about to knock again when the door opened a crack. There was silence.

"It's just me, Mom," he said wearily. "Can I come in?"

The door opened wider and Mom ushered him inside quickly. "Keep the floor clean," she warned him.

He looked down at the grimy carpet and nodded. "Sure."

She wandered back to the sofa and slumped across the cushions, reaching for the empty bottle at her elbow. As he watched she raised it to her mouth and took a long imaginary swig.

He bit his lip. He had no idea how long she'd been doing that. Could have been a long time. "You want me to get you something to drink, Mom?" he offered.

"Uh huh," she grunted.

Right. He headed through to the kitchen and glanced at the faucet for an optimistic second. Nah. He knew what would happen if he brought her a glass of water. Last time she'd thrown it in his face and screamed for twenty minutes. Instead, he pulled the chair over, clambered up onto the counter and reached into the cupboard over the sing, pulling down a glass and a bottle of vodka.

Carefully, he splashed a little vodka into the bottom of the glass and topped it up with water. Least it might help a bit. Mmmm. Maybe they had some orange juice or something.

Looked like he was in luck. He carried it over to the counter.

"What are you doing, boy?" Dad demanded.

He span round quickly, spilling a little of the orange juice onto the floor.

Dad was lounging in the doorway. He didn't _look _angry. Not yet, anyway.

"I'm just getting a drink for Mom," he said, ducking his head submissively.

"Your Mom doesn't want orange juice," Dad said scornfully, his lip curled. "Stupid bastard."

He looked up quickly. "Mabel says orange juice is good," he objected obstinately. "And I put some vodka in it."

"Right," Dad shook his head and suddenly stared at the leather jacket that Rusty had left crumpled on the table. "What you got there?"

Oh. He took a step backwards quickly, futilely sweeping the jacket down and behind his back. "Nothing."

Dad's face darkened and he stepped forwards, blotting out the light from the doorway. "I _said _what have you got there, boy?"

"'s a leather jacket," he said, swallowing hard.

"You steal that?" Dad demanded. "You a fucking thief now?"

"No!" he said immediately, tensed and ready for anything. "I got lent it. For Halloween."

Dad paused. "Halloween. You going trick or treating?"

Really, he had no idea whether that was good or bad. "Yessir," he said softly, wishing Dad wasn't blocking the doorway, wishing he could just run.

A second later and Dad was across the room, towering over him, and Rusty was hunched over, waiting and trembling. "Well, I better not hear you've been getting in any trouble, boy," he said, leaning over, and Rusty could feel his breath on his face. "You make sure you're good, you hear me."

He nodded fervently. "Yes sir, I will be, I promise."

Dad snorted. "Right." He glanced at the leather jacket and his fingers rubbed round his mouth thoughtfully. "I always liked James Dean."

He wasn't being James Dean. But he wasn't exactly in a hurry to dispel any misconceptions. 'Sides. 'Rebel Without A Cause' had been on TV last month and James Dean was just as cool as The Fonz. "Yes, sir," he agreed softly.

"Good," Dad said gruffly, still unbearably close. "Now, just remember what I told you. I hear that you've been causing trouble and you won't be able to sit down for a month, you get me? He didn't wait for an answer. He just cuffed Rusty roughly round the head and walked out.

Huh. Hadn't hurt.

In fact, it had almost been affectionate.

Rusty smiled to himself. He must be doing something right. Maybe he'd be able to keep it up.

Feeling good, he carried the drink through to Mom and she snatched it out of his hand and drank it down, swearing at him and sending him to his room a second later.

Just as well. He was tired anyway.

* * *

Sneaking out of a party was easier than Danny would have guessed. The only problem, he thought grimly, was that he had to wear the shiny crown, the buckled shoes, the ruffled blouse and the silky tights for at least ten minutes.

Mrs Darcey smiled at him as she opened the door, after she'd finished fencing with Mom and Dad. "Daniel. Aren't you just looking precious?"

"Thank you, Mrs Darcey," he said politely. He had to be inconspicuous.

"Such a cute little outfit," she added. "I believe my Annette has a pair of tights that colour," and he _knew _she wanted him to get mad, to snap and insult her the way he'd done in the past, to publicly embarrass Mom and Dad. He made for good gossip.

Rusty was waiting for him. Rusty, a bank robber's costume and a whole lot of candy.

"It's a nice colour," he said neutrally.

For that he thought he could take anything.

"I'm glad to see you didn't bring That Boy, Barbara," Mrs Darcey said, and her eyes were still on Danny. "Have you managed to discourage him from following Daniel around at last?"

He could take anything. He could take _anything._

"Children do get into these strange phases," Mom said stiffly. "The best thing to do is just to wait them out."

"Oh, yes," Mrs Darcey smiled daintily. "I remember a few months back Annette wanted to cut her hair short.

Mum laughed, soft and awkward, and Danny kept his eyes blank. Rusty's friendship was in the same league as an unfortunate haircut.

Not to him.

He carried on smiling and, visibly disappointed, Mrs Darcey ushered them into the next room.

Danny waited until Mom had disappeared into a huddle with Mrs Arthur and Mrs Ferrell, and Dad had vanished off with a blonde woman who was dressed like no nurse Danny had ever seen. Then he headed into the bathroom, carefully closed the door behind him, and ducked out the window.

Fifteen minutes running and he was back home, wriggling out of the ridiculous prince's outfit and into his bank robber costume.

Dark slacks, a black and white striped shirt, the sack with 'swag' written prominently on it and a black scarf with eyeholes cut out of it for a mask.

He tied it around his face and looked at himself in the mirror admiringly. Oh, he was looking _good. _All he needed was the last finishing touch.

He hefted the black marker thoughtfully.

* * *

Rusty was waiting for him when he got to the school.

Blue jeans, white t-shirt, his hair thoroughly gelled back and the leather jacket down to his knees.

Danny smiled. "Gomez Addams called, he wants his hairgel back."

Rusty nodded. "Your moustache is squint."

He put his hand to his upper lip automatically. "I know." Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the marker hopefully. "Help?"

"Hold still," Rusty said with an amused sigh, and Danny stood patiently as Rusty, up on tiptoes, drew on his face.

"Wow, looking good guys," a voice said enthusiastically.

Danny glanced sideways to see Doug Fletcher, dressed in a dark cloak and vampire fangs, grinning at them.

"Hey, Doug," Rusty said, not looking round.

"Hi," Danny called, trying not to move his mouth.

"Stay still," Rusty told him. "You going to this thing then, Doug?"

"Yeah," Doug agreed enthusiastically. "The teachers are round the front dividing everyone into groups."

Oh. Danny suddenly felt a surge of unease. They would be able to stay together, right?

He could see the same worry in Rusty's eyes.

"Who are you meant to be, Rusty?" Doug asked suddenly.

"The Fonz," Rusty said absently.

"The Fonz isn't blond," Doug objected.

"We didn't have enough black markers to do my hair," Rusty explained. "There. You're done," he said to Danny, stepping back.

Danny glanced at himself in the window. Oh, that was better. He smiled. "Shall we?"

Mrs O'Donnell was standing in the entrance with a clipboard. "Oh, Danny, there you are." She frowned at Rusty. "And is this your little brother?"

"My friend," Danny corrected simply.

"Rusty Ryan," Rusty put in. "I'll be on the list."

"Oh, yes." She made a couple of notes. "Now, Danny, you're with Roger," She nodded over to a teenager dressed as wizard. "And Rusty, you'll be with Paul." She pointed to a sullen looking boy holding a blood-stained axe.

They didn't look at each other. Didn't have to.

"Can't we stay together?" Danny asked with his most charming smile.

"Please?" Rusty added hopefully. "It really wouldn't be – "

" – nowhere near as fun," Danny nodded, meaning every word. "And we won't – "

" – oh, no trouble at all," Rusty assured her.

They could see her wavering.

"_Please," _they said again, in soft sincere unison.

"Oh, alright then," she said at last. "You can both go with Paul."

"Thank you," they said together.

* * *

This wasn't as fun as they'd been hoping. Pretty obvious that Paul wasn't at all interested in being here. They – along with Julian Meadows, Kelly Sharp, Alice Munroe and Kirstin Lewis – were being herded from door to door as fast as possible. They barely had time to smile and say 'Trick or treat?' before Paul was hauling them away.

No chance of conversation, no chance to compare what they'd got, no chance to show off their costumes, no _fun. _

After the third home, they exchanged a long glance.

"You want – "Danny began in a whisper.

" – let's go," Rusty nodded.

They dropped to the back of the group then quietly slipped away.

* * *

The two of them alone and this was much more fun. They sauntered up to door after door, bright, charming smiles, and they were shining, basking in friendly welcome and appreciative admiration.

Seemed their costumes were impressing. And Danny's moustache, despite their best efforts, was amusing.

Was a good night.

"Think I've got enough food here to last me a week," he said cheerfully, peering into his bag. Chocolate and lollipops and sweet peanuts and gummy bears...all his and delicious.

"Good," Danny said, after a fractional pause and he glanced over in time to see the struggle and conflict.

He honestly didn't know what to say. Oh, he understood what Danny had a problem with, and it wasn't the idea of Rusty having enough food. And yes, he was prepared to admit that it wasn't normal, that the other kids out trick or treating were looking at _their _candy and seeing, well, treats.

"Doesn't mean it's not fun, Danny," he said softly.

After a moment, Danny smiled. "Yeah. So what do you – "

" – we got time to go to Mabel's 'fore you have to get back?" he suggested hopefully.

Danny considered. "Should do."

Mabel's place was a couple of blocks away, and as soon as they turned the corner they saw the crowd.

Kids, mostly Danny's age. Rusty recognised them. Mike and John, Gina, Unity and Patricia and Jeff and Lee. They were huddled at the top of the street, watching a group of ten or so teenagers who were focussed on something – someone – on the ground. Rusty had seen the teenagers around, but he didn't know names. He just knew to avoid them.

They could just turn around and walk in the other direction. Not get involved. Pretend they hadn't seen anything.

They didn't even look at each other, they just sprinted up to the end of the end of the street and carefully pushed through the crowd.

Chip and Buzz Fairley were on the ground, being held down by two of the boys. And Chip might be the same age as the teenagers, more or less, but he was barely taller than his little brother. This fight was about as unfair as he could imagine.

There was a rucksack at the teenagers' feet. Looked like it was stuffed to the brim with candy. All the candy the kids around them had got from trick or treating, Rusty would guess. This was a shake down.

"New blood," one of the teenagers shouted gleefully, catching sight of him and Danny. "We'll get to you in a minute. Don't try to run, we'll catch you."

He imagined they would. But, as he glanced sideways and saw the same anger and outrage at the injustice reflected in Danny, he knew they had no intention of running.

Danny's eyes flickered a little way along the street and Rusty grinned. Oh, that should work.

He leaned in to Patricia on his left. "Meet us at the diner down the street," he whispered, and he knew Danny was passing on the same message to Mike on the other side.

He started to sneak around the edge of the crowd. A second later and Danny was running past the teenagers with a wild cry, grabbing the rucksack of sweets and zig sagging crazily down the street. Took the teenagers a moment to catch up to what was going on, and then they were chasing after Danny, Chip and Buzz and the others forgotten, and Rusty was running flat out.

Their timing was perfect. Danny ground to a halt in a doorway and the teenagers advanced on him menacingly. "You're in trouble now, kid. Didn't think this through, did you?"

Danny smiled. "You think so?" He looked pointedly to his left and the boys followed his gaze instinctively.

Straight at Rusty, standing right beside the fire hydrant.

"Aaaayyyyy," he said cheerfully, and he hit the side of the loosened fire hydrant, sending a jet of water all over the teenagers who fled, soaked and surprised.

"Wouldn't hang around to give a thumbs up," Danny suggested, and they were racing away, leaving the teenagers behind.

* * *

They caught up with the other kids a half block or so from Mabel's.

"You okay"? Rusty asked, stepping up between Buzz and his older brother. Danny wasn't exactly sure of the guy's name.

"Yeah," the brother nodded, awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the whole thing. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Danny said with an easy smile. "So what happened, anyway?"

Mike shrugged. "Me and John were just walking the girls home when those guys jumped us. Said they'd beat us up if we didn't give them our candy."

"We handed it over," John admitted, a little shame-faced. "Come on, there was twenty of them."

Ten that Danny had counted. But that wasn't exactly the point. He nodded understandingly.

"And then Lee and Jeff showed up, and they got grabbed too," Mike added. "And then Buzz and Chip were walking past, and they tried to get them to leave us all alone." He looked over at Buzz and Chip. "Seriously, I thought they were going to kill you!"

Buzz smiled tightly. "Nah. They were nothing."

"You were amazing!" Gina said, looking at Danny with wide eyes.

Mike nodded. "You really were."

"You got the candy, right?" Jeff asked anxiously.

Danny smiled and hefted the rucksack. "Uh huh."

"Let's go divide it out," Rusty added cheerfully, throwing open the door to the diner dramatically.

Mabel beamed at them all in welcome. "Happy Halloween," she said with a twirl. She was dressed as Wonder Woman.

"Wow – " Rusty began.

Danny nodded. " – you look – "

" – fantastic," Rusty finished seriously.

"So do you," she told them, looking over the group with a smile. "Look at you all! Danny, you must be the fiercest bank robber I've ever seen. And Rusty, you make a wonderful Fonzie."

Danny grinned and Rusty gave her the classic thumbs-up pose.

"Wonder Woman isn't African American though," Jeff pointed out with a frown. "You should've been Storm."

"Storm's cool," Lee agreed seriously.

"I like Wonder Woman though," Mabel told them, seemingly not in the slightest bit offended.

"And Rusty's a blond Fonz!" Lee went on. "Seriously, people, these things matter!"

Danny did his best not to meet Rusty's eyes, amusement crackling.

"You all here for something to eat?" Mabel suggested diplomatically.

Behind them, Chip shuffled his feet. "Uh, we don't have our wallets," he lied awkwardly.

Mabel smiled. "Uh uh, it's Halloween," she pointed out. "You know what to say."

"Trick or treat?" Rusty suggested hopefully.

"Let's see what I have for you all," Mabel said with a grin.

Danny smiled at Rusty. He was going to need to go back to his parents and the party soon enough, and he was going to need to get the ink moustache off his face first, and at some point they were probably going to need to deal with consequences from them walking out on the school trick or treat scheme.

Right now though, watching the other kids reclaiming their candy, waiting as Mabel brought them pie over, feeling like heroes, right now with Rusty smiling beside him, there was nothing to worry about.


	35. Expectations

**A/N: Very short chapter, but I'll be posting the first part of another multipart chapter later this week. In the meantime, here is something short that is absolutely _certain _to be the earliest I will ever write in this verse. Probably. Anyway, here are four drabbles. Precisely one hundred words each.  
**

* * *

i

He held the child in his arms awkwardly. He was a father now. Who would have believed it?

He didn't know how this was going to work out. He'd never expected to be a father, but he was going to do his best. He could change. Hell, he'd only smiled a couple of times at that pretty little nurse before he'd remembered himself. Married man now. Married man with a kid.

He could hardly wait till the kid grew up. He'd pass on everything he knew. The kid would have the world at his feet.

"You're my son," he whispered.

* * *

ii

She looked down at the child, frowning. She didn't feel anything. All the way through her pregnancy, everyone told her that when the child was born, she'd feel this amazing connection.

She didn't. In reality, she just felt bored. The child was small and helpless, and the nurse asked if she wanted to hold him, and really, she just kept wondering whether Francis had taken over the Fisher account.

This wasn't what she wanted. And it'd be a year before she could start getting her career back on track.

And in return...she didn't feel _anything._

"It's not fair," she whispered.

* * *

iii

She held the child in her arms awkwardly. He was beautiful. Ten fingers, ten toes, perfect in every way.

She'd never been this happy. And Robert would _have _to marry her now, she just knew it. He was just waiting till she was legal. And Mom and Dad would come round soon enough. They were bound to want to meet their grandchild, after all.

Robert was gonna make a great father, she knew he was. They'd raise this child right and they'd raise him together and he'd grow up to be just like Robert.

"Everything's gonna be fine," she whispered.

* * *

iv

He looked down at the child, frowning. Fuck, it was so _small. _He'd said as much to the nurse, but she'd just laughed and said that was normal.

He'd expected his son to be something more special. This little fucker looked like being a disappointment right away.

Still, there was plenty of time for it to grow up. And at least it wasn't crying. He didn't think he could stand that for very long. Nah, he'd make a man out of it, and it'd grow up to be just like its Dad.

"You're gonna be a tough bastard," he whispered.


	36. Unseasonal Part 1

A/N: Yes, another multipart chapter. Originally I'd meant this to be all one chapter. However, once it got over 100 pages I revised that plan a little... I think this will be about six chapters long - one day per chapter. More or less. 

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)  
**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'  
**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

28th December 1978

Walking into the diner was a heady mix of anticipation, joy and relief.

It had been a long week. Yeah, sure, a week wasn't so very long in the scheme of things, but a week without Rusty was an eternity and this time more than most. He'd been bubbling over with thoughts and feelings and worries he _needed _to share with Rusty, right there and then, and he hadn't been able to.

So much had happened. So much that he'd have wanted to check with Rusty _before _he ever let it happen.

He caught sight of Rusty sitting at the back of the diner and hurried over. "You'll never believe what happened to me!" he said, and Rusty was saying the exact same words at the exact same time.

The excitement faded.

Shock and fury took over.

He swallowed hard. "Oh, I think I might be able to hazard a few guesses," he said, staring at the cast on Rusty's left arm and the deep scratches on his cheek.

Rusty looked up at him earnestly. "I fell."

"You fell," he repeated flatly, and here were words he'd heard Rusty say a hundred times to a hundred people and Danny was going to kill that bastard this time, he was really going to kill him.

"Sit down, Danny," Rusty said sharply.

Reluctantly, he did.

Rusty was looking straight at him. "I fell," he said again, and there was truth there and just a hint of disappointment. "I _fell, _Danny."

Danny sagged in his seat, white-hot adrenaline fading. He still couldn't bear that Rusty was hurt. "Okay," he said quietly, and he still wasn't exactly sure whether he quite believed it. Once upon a time there'd been little difference in Rusty's head between a fall and a push.

Rusty grinned and signalled the waitress for a cup of coffee. Good. Right now, Danny felt like he needed it.

He took off his scarf. Immediately Rusty's eyes were alight with amusement. "Guess I can hazard a few guesses as well," he murmured, staring at Danny's neck.

Danny's hand flew up to cover the lovebite automatically.

"So tell me."

* * *

20th December 1978

An alarm clock ringing at five thirty in the morning was Danny's second least favourite way to wake up. His _least _favourite was the sound of his Mom hammering on his bedroom door, and that happened two seconds after he'd managed to shut up the alarm clock.

In an instant, Rusty slid out of his arms, out of the bed, and rolled onto the campbed, managing to twist himself up in the blankets convincingly for when Mom opened the door three seconds after she knocked.

"Daniel! The plane leaves in four hours. I assure you, it'll take off whether you are on board or not. You've got an hour to get ready and say your goodbyes." Her gaze dropped down to Rusty. "Good morning, Robert," she said stiffly.

"Good morning, Mrs Ocean," Rusty said politely, sitting up, his hair sticking out at all angles.

"Daniel, I'll see you downstairs for breakfast," she said abruptly, and she was gone.

"Well, this vacation's going to be fun," Danny remarked gloomily as soon as he was sure the door was closed.

Rusty shot him a look of sleepy sympathy. "Maybe it won't be that bad."

Danny snorted. "Just me and Mom? We tried that this summer vacation, remember? I hardly saw her over the two weeks."

"Yeah, but she said this trip was for you," Rusty pointed out. "She wanted to give you a break."

She was. She wanted to take him away from everything. She was _trying. _He sighed. "So you think I should give her a chance?"

Rusty said nothing.

Danny nodded. "You think I should give her a chance." He supposed Rusty was right. Besides. It wasn't like he exactly had a choice. He was going on this vacation whether he wanted to or not. But he supposed he could offer as much good grace and cheer as he could. "'s just not how I wanted to spend Christmas, you know?" he said quietly, sitting up in bed and running his hand through his hair. "Can't be worse than last year, I suppose. Uncle Harold and appendicitis."

Silently, Rusty sat down beside him on the bed and took his hand.

"I just wish..." he trailed off. There was no point in saying it. Dad wasn't here and never would be again and even now there were days when that thought caught him by surprise and left him struggling to hold the tears back.

"I know," Rusty said, squeezing his hand.

Danny flashed him a smile. "Wish you were coming." He ignored the treacherous whisper that suggested that he wanted Rusty there even _more _than he wanted Dad there.

You'd better get ready," Rusty pointed out and Danny nodded and stumbled off in the direction of the bathroom.

When he emerged, towelling his hair dry, Rusty was sitting on the bed beside a large, brightly-wrapped present.

"What's this?" Danny asked with a smile.

Rusty rolled his eyes. "Three guesses." He looked at Danny intently. "I wanted to give you it before Christmas." He passed it over, smiling. "Happy Christmas, Danny."

"Just a second." Tucking the parcel under his arm, he ran over to the wardrobe and reached up to the top shelf.

_Huh._

There was a noticeable absence of present. For a moment he panicked. Then his brain caught up and he turned to where Rusty was grinning. "Oh, you're _funny,"_ he said severely.

Rusty grinned some more. "Desk drawer. I didn't open it."

Danny retrieved the present and handed it to Rusty. "Happy Christmas, Rus'," he said, a second before unwrapping his own present with enthusiasm.

_Oh._

Oh, this was fantastic.

He held up the leather jacket admiringly for a second, then he raced over to the mirror, wrapping it around his shoulders.

Oh, he was looking _good._

"Thank you," he said fervently. "Oh, thank you, Rus'. 's _brilliant._"

Rusty was smiling happily down at his own gift, a small compact cassette player, a couple of music tapes and a bunch of foreign language 'Colloquial Conversation' tapes.

Danny had ordered them in special. Months back. "Figured they would come in handy for all the things Ami won't teach you," he explained.

Rusty grinned. "Thank you," he said appreciatively. "Maybe you should take the French one with you?"

He waved a hand. "Nah, I'll wait and get you to translate the juicy bits when I get back."

When they went downstairs he was still wearing the jacket.

Mom frowned when she saw it. "Where did you get that?"

"Christmas present from Rusty," he explained. "Isn't it fantastic?"

Mom's lips were thin but she contained herself to a sharp "I see."

Danny wasn't sure if it was the jacket itself or the fact that it was Rusty who had given it to him that she had a problem with. Hell, it might just be the fact that it was clearly expensive – Rusty must have spent a small fortune on him – and that wouldn't fit in with Mom's view of the world.

"Would you like some breakfast, Robert?" Mom asked a second later. "I'm making scrambled eggs."

Danny could see Rusty stop and calculate. Trying to figure out what the _right _answer was. Nothing was ever simple and all too often things had a price tag.

_He _wanted Rusty to stay. For as long as he possibly could.

And Rusty caught that plea and still hesitated just a little too long.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Robert," Mom said impatiently. "It's just eggs and bread. It isn't difficult. I'm going to have to throw them out _anyway._"

"Then yes, please, thank you, ma'am," Rusty said quietly.

Mom was still making an effort. She really was. After all, on days when she _wasn't _she'd never have dreamt of asking Rusty to stay for breakfast. She'd just bundle him out of the house before Danny was contaminated further. So the part of Danny that was furious for the impatient and the condescending and for the respectful and the grateful should really take a backseat right about now.

The three of them ate breakfast in silence and afterwards Mom cleared away the plates. "I'm going to go and put the suitcases in the car," she announced. "Say your goodbyes now." She hesitated. "Unless you need a lift back to your home, Robert?" The reluctance was obvious and Rusty's response was predictable.

"Nah, I'm good, Mrs Ocean. I can take the bus easy."

Mom nodded shortly and left the room.

Danny sighed and looked at Rusty miserably. A whole week. More than that, really, because he wasn't going to get home till some ungodly hour on the Wednesday so he wouldn't see Rusty till the 28th.

"Oh, Danny." Rusty's eyes were soft and comforting. "It's alright. Really. We've been apart longer than this."

"Yeah." And it was Christmas, of course, so he wouldn't be seeing Rusty _anyway. _But that wasn't the point. He hadn't gone even a full day without seeing Rusty since Dad had died, and he wasn't sure he could. He _knew _he didn't want to. And that was almost incidental besides the simple and the obvious; if he was away from Rusty for a week he wouldn't know what was happening. Wouldn't know how bad things had got for Rusty.

Rusty leaned forwards and brushed his hand against Danny's cheek, both of them keeping an ear open for Mom coming close. "I'll be fine, Danny. You just take care of yourself, okay?"

"You too," he said, leaning into Rusty's hand for a long moment.

A noise outside and they broke apart.

"I should – " Rusty nodded towards the door.

" – yeah," Danny agreed and he watched Rusty grab his jacket, a lump in his throat. "Rus'?"

Rusty turned back enquiringly.

"Merry Christmas," he said with a smile.

"Merry Christmas, Danny," Rusty said gravely, and then he was gone.

Danny went outside to help Mom with the bags.

They drove to the airport and Danny was desperately trying to think of something to say. Small talk shouldn't be this difficult, but there was so much awkward ground between him and Mom that it was difficult to know where to tread. Like walking into a minefield carrying a stick that was just a bit too short. And he had a full week of this.

And Mom was feeling it too, he could tell. She was concentrating a little harder than she usually did on the road.

It was a little easier in the airport. After all, there they had the ready-made conversation starters about where was the check-in desk and were they sure this was the right queue for security, and would there be a coffee stand on the other side?

There was. And as he and Mom sat, both sipping a double espresso, Mom was actually smiling and telling him about the first time she had to catch a flight by herself, and how she'd been so nervous she'd shown her passport to a janitor, and Danny was actually laughing.

It felt nice. It felt...relaxed.

Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.

The flight was long and Danny spent his time watching the inflight movie disconsolately. It was 'The Lord of the Rings' and to be honest he hadn't thought much of it the _first _time he saw it. He liked his cartoons to be funny.

Mom read her book and slept a little.

Danny didn't sleep. Sleeping with Mom sitting right next to him felt...dangerous. Felt like leaving himself exposed and vulnerable. And he might not have Rusty's instincts but he still didn't like that one bit.

The plane was delayed. Landed about ten thirty, local time, and by the time they got to the hotel it was well after midnight and Danny was exhausted.

He woke up pretty fast when they stepped into the lobby. There was a girl behind the reception desk. Maybe seventeen, with long ash-blonde hair, and maybe Danny was just tired, but he thought she was probably the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen outside the movies.

She looked up and smiled when they came in, and Danny felt if that smile lingered on him, just a little, he'd be happy.

"Madame Ocean?" she said in beautifully accented English. "We have been expecting you. My maman is sorry she is not here to take care of you in person, but sadly she went to bed with an 'eadache. I can get you checked in and Matthieu will take your bags up to our rooms. Matthieu!" she called imperiously and an aged bellhop suddenly stepped out of the shadows with a trolley and whisked their cases away.

"Thank you," Mom said graciously, leaning over the papers that were slid over the counter.

While Mom was busy the girl's gaze slid over to Danny and he stood as coolly as he could while her eyes wandered slowly over his leather jacket and up to his face.

Suddenly he was _really _happy that he'd taken a moment to check his hair before they left the airport.

She winked at him unexpectedly and the smile was brief but wicked.

Danny grinned back.

"My name is Yvette," she murmured.

"I'm Danny," he told her.

"Danny," she said slowly. "Well, Danny, I hope you enjoy your stay."

"I intend to," he assured her.

Fortunately, Mom had been paying no attention and when she stood up straight they both pretended that whatever had been going on hadn't been going on at all.

"Here you go," Yvette said, passing over two keys. "Rooms 16 and 17. I am sure I will see you at some point in the next week?"

Oh, Danny certainly hoped so.

* * *

Rusty lingered in the road long enough to watch Danny and his Mom drive away.

His breath hung in the air, and he shivered and hoped that Danny would be okay. Wasn't like he necessarily disagreed with Danny's Mom about Danny needing a break. He just wished...

Oh, if he was being completely honest, he wished that _he _had the power to take Danny away from all this. Away from the memories, away from his Mom, and for the first time in his life, he found himself just a little bit jealous of Danny's Mom.

His hands were stuck deep in his coat pocket and he started walking. Maybe he was worrying too much. Maybe Danny's Mom really would manage to say and do the right things for once. Just that there'd been no fucking sign of it so far.

God.

One of these days he was going to have to watch Danny driving away from him for good. Going off to some exclusive college, to a bright future and a fantastic new life where Rusty wouldn't be able to follow.

This really wasn't the time to think of that now. No point in living for tomorrow, after all. Surviving today always came first, and anyway, he had to be getting home.

Whatever he'd said to Danny's Mom, getting a bus wasn't easy. They wouldn't start running for another hour and if he walked, he'd already be home by then. Was _far _too cold to stand around for an hour waiting for a bus, especially since he didn't even have the money.

He walked.

Streets were deserted and he got home a little after half seven. He stood with his ear to the door for a long moment. Silence. Seemed safe. He tried the door handle, being as quiet as he could. Huh. Locked. And that meant Dad was out and that meant that it more than _seemed _safe.

This lock he could open with a pick practically faster than he could with a key. After all, he got a lot of practice, and moments later he was inside.

Definitely no sign of Dad. Always a good thing. Not least because it meant he could head into his room right away, looking for the best place to hide the cassette player. If Dad found _that _after all, it'd vanish into a pawn shop before he could blink, and he'd catch hell for having it in the first place.

There was a space under the bed. He'd woven a sheet of cardboard between the two slats, a little pouch he used for hiding money and anything else Dad would take. Might just be strong enough. He gave it a try and held his breath for a long moment. Didn't fall.

Such a fantastic present. He couldn't resist trying it out.

He chose the French tape first. Seemed the natural choice. And he made sure the speakers were turned down low and he sat on the floor, leaning back against his bed, his eyes closed as he vanished into a world of concentration.

It was hours later when he emerged, having played the tape countless times, repeating words and phrases till he was confident his pronunciation was, if not perfect, at least not laughable. Least the vocabulary would stick.

God, it was getting dark again. Must be late afternoon. Danny would be in France by now. He hoped everything was alright. Hoped Danny was alright. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that they didn't actually have the Midwich Cuckoo powers that Lee accused them of having. Would be so much better if he could talk to Danny anywhere, anytime.

He stood up, stretching painfully. Was cold in here. He wondered if it was worth sticking the heating on. Dad always got mad if he came home and found Rusty had put the heat on. Said it cost money and Rusty wasn't worth it. Well, there'd been no sign of Dad all day. And if he _did _come home tonight, odds were good he'd be too drunk to notice. And besides, it was _freezing._

He shuffled into the living room and stuck the electric fire on. Would take a few hours before the place heated up, but it should eventually. He'd be warmer faster if he dared stay in the living room. He considered it for a long moment. Nah. Nah, he didn't think that sounded worth it.

In the meantime, he fixed himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of water, and headed back to his room. He'd be warm enough if he stayed in bed. Besides. He had to read 'The Outsiders' for when school started again. Might as well get it over with.

Getting caught up in the story was practically unavoidable and he fell asleep with the book still in his hand.


	37. Unseasonal Part 2

**A/N: Another chapter of this...so far we're going a day at a time. Anyone who was paying attention in the first chapter will therefore be able to figure about how many chapters there are likely to be to this arc. Yeah. That's a lot, isn't it?  
**

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 & 37) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)  
**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'  
**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

21/12/1978

Danny was exhausted the next morning at breakfast. He hadn't slept well. New place, he figured, but he'd been plagued by nightmares, vague and indistinct, and there was no one there to wake him up and tell him he was safe and lie beside him until he fell asleep again.

There were other guests in the hotel, of course, and Mom seemed to have found the English-speaking contingent. The Merrivales, an older couple from Houston, the Falconers from Boston and Mr Brownlie, a single man from England, who was nodding with condescending encouragement as Mrs Merrivale complained that the breakfast menu showed a disappointing lack of good, old-fashioned American home-cooking.

"I just want some hash browns and eggs, sunnyside up. Is that too much to ask?"

In another time and another place, when Mom wasn't sitting right there, Danny might have pointed out that Nice wasn't noticeably _in _America and there was little point in complaining about things that couldn't be changed. Particularly when there was fresh coffee and brioche on offer.

The conversation turned to plans for the day and why everyone was here, and Danny found it easy to stay respectfully silent. He took a bite of the sweet roll. Delicious. Oh, he wished he could bring some of these back for Rusty.

Transpired after breakfast that there was some sort of organised tour going on. The sights of Nice, explained for their edification. Danny dutifully tagged along in Mom's wake and concentrated on being bright and upbeat and unobjectionable, but he found himself wearying of it after an hour or so.

This just really wasn't his type of thing. All organised and hurried along, and he liked history in school just fine, but he wasn't going to marvel at something just because it was over three hundred years old. He wished they'd throw in a few more stories.

And, inevitably, as boredom set in his mind started to wander. He remembered these sorts of tours when he'd been a little kid. He'd walk near the back of the group, with Dad, scurrying to keep up while Mom was away up front, sparring with the other tourists, and sometimes, if he was in a good mood, Dad would tell him silly little jokes and play eye spy, and once, when Dad had been particularly angry with Mom, and the tour had been dragging on a little too long, Dad had snuck him away for ice cream instead. Dad had made this sort of thing _fun, _and Danny carefully ignored the _other _memories of shouting and recriminations and times when Dad had snuck away and left Danny behind.

Mom nudged him sharply. "Daniel!" she hissed. "Mrs Merrivale asked you a question. _Try _to pay attention, can't you?" The embarrassed frustration was obvious in Mom's voice, and Danny shot her a quick look of guilt and apology before he turned to Mrs Merrivale and smiled politely. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid I was miles away."

"I was just wondering how you were enjoying the trip?" she asked again, smiling back at him. "It can't be very exciting for you to be surrounded by all us old folk with no one your own age."

"No, it's good," he answered immediately, knowing what the right answer was. "I'm enjoying myself. Nice is very pretty and the history is so interesting."

"Yes, because you were paying so much attention," Mr Brownlie joined in with a little laugh that Danny disliked immensely. "What were you thinking about so hard, mmm? A girl I'll bet."

Danny just shrugged and he could feel Mom's gaze boring down on the back of his neck.

Thankfully the conversation was interrupted by an apparently excellent example of a 17th century church, and Danny managed to remain polite and invisible for the rest of the morning.

They ended up eating lunch in a little restaurant off a square, and Danny ruthlessly quelled the part of him that was _tired, _the part of him that wished he didn't have to keep playing to an audience, the part of him that had been hoping that Mom wanted to spend some time with him and him alone. That was just him being selfish and ungrateful. It was perfectly reasonable for Mom to want to spend some time with other adults.

"Would you like a glass of wine, Daniel?" Mr Falconer asked with a smile.

Danny blinked. "No, thank you."

"Oh, go on," Mr Falconer urged. "It's perfectly legal here, as long as your mother doesn't mind."

Danny didn't bother glancing at Mom. Whether or not she minded very much wasn't his issue. He'd just done enough drinking lately. "No, thank you," he said again with dazzling politeness.

Mr Falconer seemed to accept this fortunately, though he favoured Danny with a couple of strange looks. Apparently turning down booze wasn't the teenage way.

"So, Daniel," Mr Merrivale said, leaning forwards as Mom and Mr Brownlie whispered together. "What do you want to do when you grow up?"

Why did everyone always ask that, he wondered. He had no idea and he'd never come up with a good answer. Not one that he could sell with enthusiasm. "I'm afraid I haven't decided yet," he said with a gracious smile. "I still have a few more years of school before I have to make up my mind."

"Of course," Mr Merrivale nodded. "But it's dangerous to leave these things too late, you know. High school is over before you know it and then you're out in the real world and that's cold and unforgiving."

Where were they exactly? Siberia? He nodded like he was giving the matter serious thought until Mr Merrivale turned his attention to the food.

Lunch was lovely, there was no denying it, and Danny felt so stupid when he found himself looking at the panna cotta and thinking that was what Dad would order, and looking at the chocolate mousse cake and thinking that Rusty would love it, and he didn't know which dessert he wanted and he couldn't decide which he should have.

He asked for the almond tart. He didn't even _like _almonds and he picked at it moodily until Mom whispered at him through gritted teeth, to finish what was on his plate and for god's sake, stop looking so sulky.

He made an effort for the rest of the afternoon as the tour wound interminably on. He just felt so exhausted, and when Mom eyed him critically and suggested that he might want to go and get a couple of hours sleep before dinner, he nodded gratefully and smiled warmly at her before he stumbled upstairs and he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

He dreamed of Dad.

A day long ago, the sun glinting on the river, and his feet were wet.

Rusty's t-shirt was in Dad's hands, and Dad was staring and Rusty was awkwardly trying to hide his back, his chest, his self.

"I fell," Rusty whispered hoarsely, the first words he'd spoken all day. "Please. I fell."

And Danny knew how things were going to go from there.

But somehow they didn't.

When Danny turned round, Dad's expression was frozen horror and outrage, and everything that _Danny _felt and no one else ever did, and then Dad was looking at him.

"It's okay, Danny. I'll look after both of you. No one will ever hurt Rusty again. I swear."

And then everything was better and Rusty's Dad was far away and Rusty was safe and happy and they were sharing a room and Dad's arms were tight around Danny, protecting him, proud of him, _loving _him...

He woke up and there were tears on his face and for a moment he didn't know where he was, and out of habit and instinct, he reached across the bed, seeking the comfort and understanding that only Rusty ever provided.

But he was alone and Rusty was far away.

He sighed and with the ease of practice, buried the hurt and the loneliness deep inside. He couldn't talk to Rusty...and he'd _never _be able to talk to Dad...but Mom was here and he was supposed to be trying to get on with her and that meant not even letting the smallest _hint _that something might be wrong show through.

Mom wouldn't be able to help and that would make her angry and frustrated and everything would get so much worse.

Mask firmly in place, he scrubbed his face, combed his hair, dressed for dinner and headed downstairs.

Yvette was standing beside the concierge's desk, animatedly talking to the woman on duty. She half turned when she heard the elevator and she smiled when she saw him. A real smile, he thought, not just a customer service smile.

He gave her a nod of acknowledgement that was cool and collected and a smile that was anything but.

She winked at him.

Praying that he wasn't blushing, he hurried into the restaurant.

Mom was already sitting at a table and she looked happy to see him. Happy and relaxed and that always gave him pause. It was difficult to know how to treat Mom being pleased with him...it was _nice _but it wasn't comfortable.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked as he sat down.

"Yes, some, thank you," he answered politely.

"Good," she said and paused for a second. "It's probably just jet lag."

He didn't think so. He'd been exhausted all the time lately, and Rusty had been _encouraging _him to take early nights and even grabbing a nap when they came in from school. And even then he rarely slept peacefully. But that was stuff that Mom didn't need to know and didn't want to know. He was making an effort, that wasn't the same thing as sharing vulnerability. "Probably," he agreed, smiling.

There was silence for a time and then, as the waitress brought him a glass of coke, Danny managed to break it, talking about the things they'd seen today, broadcasting interest and intelligence and quiet respect, trying to be the person Mom wanted him to be.

Seemed to work. Seemed to work for the rest of the meal, in fact, and he thought Mom was listening more to him _now _than she had in years.

"I heard what you said to Mr Merrivale today," she remarked casually over coffee, and Danny racked his brain trying to figure out exactly what, and if he should be worried. "You really do need to think more about what you want to do with your life, Daniel. College applications are just around the corner you know. Time is running out."

Oh. Well, it wasn't like she didn't have a point. Just that he didn't have any answers. He shrugged. "I don't know."

"_Don't _shrug, Daniel, it makes you look common," she told him irritably. "You can't stay a child forever, you know. Very soon you're going to have to grow up and assume some responsibilities. You need to be able to stand on your own two feet."

He stared down at the table for a long moment. "I promise I'm thinking about it, Mom," he said in a low voice.

She hesitated. "Have you ever thought about law?" she asked, her voice far more gentle.

Only when he was wondering how many they were breaking. He looked up. "Law?"

"Yes. I remember that debate you took part in last month," Mom said, actually smiling proudly at him. "You were excellent. You're far more eloquent than I'd ever have expected. Perhaps you could make a career out of it?"

He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what she _wanted _him to say. He settled for a look of thoughtful interest and that seemed to suffice.

"At any rate, you should stick with the debate team," she added.

He'd quit the second they got back from Chicago, much to Julian Meadows' relief. "I will," he nodded. Not like she'd remember in a month's time. Maybe not even in a week. She never did, after all.

Was at that point that Mr and Mrs Falconer came up to the table.

"Oh, Barbara," Mr Falconer began. "A bunch of us are going out to the local tavern. What do you say, do you want to join us?" He was beaming and it was obvious he was in no doubt she'd agree.

"That's very kind of you," Mom said, smiling, gracious and happy.

"Unless you want to stay with Daniel of course," Mrs Falconer cut in. "I doubt they'll allow him through the doors."

Mom hesitated and glanced over at him and it was obvious she hadn't thought of that. (_Him._)

He was supposed to be making compromises. Not being selfish. This was Mom's vacation too, after all, and not everything revolved around him. Besides. He was still tired. "You go on," he urged her, with a smile. "I could do with an early night anyway." That was the truth. He wasn't a child anymore. It didn't matter if he was alone. What would happen...he'd get _lonely?_

To her credit Mom still hesitated. "Are you sure?" she asked, watching him intently.

He smiled and nodded and she accepted that quickly, gathering up her coat and purse. "Okay, I'll see you in the morning, alright? Goodnight, Daniel."

She was gone practically before he had time to blink. He sat there numbly for a few moments longer before he headed upstairs to his room.

He went to bed immediately. There didn't seem much else to do, and he lay awake for a long time, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest, trying not to think.

After a while he got up and switched the TV on, turning the volume right down until all there was left was a soft hum of indistinct voices.

He lay back down and closed his eyes and eventually he slept.

* * *

It was cold and dark when Rusty woke up and that wasn't right at all.

He lay absolutely still, not daring to breathe, trying not to shiver his fingers twisted in the blanket and in his head he was already considering door over window, trying to figure out where the danger was coming from, trying to figure out which way he should run.

The light had still been on when he fell asleep. He was one hundred percent certain of that. The light had been on and now it _wasn't_ and that meant...well, that could mean a number of things.

Best option here, it was just a burnt out bulb.

Worst option...his hands gripped the blanket impossibly tighter, his fingers spasming, holding the thin blanket like it was somehow going to protect him. Worst option meant someone had been in his room. Meant _Dad _had been in his room. Been in his room, watching him sleep, and he hadn't woken up. The thought brought the scream creeping up in his throat.

He held his breath another long moment. Listening desperately for _anything._ The sound of clinking bottles. The sound of breathing. Any sign that Dad was there. Fuck, any sign that Dad was _here._

For a moment he could almost _see _Dad, leaning against the door, cutting off his escape routes, _waiting _for him to wake up, waiting to shout and to shove and slap and punch and hit and hurt, just like he always did, could feel the weight of the thick hand on the back of his neck, dragging him out of bed, his face slamming against the wall, the spittle landing on his hair, and then the hairsbreadth pause as the fist drew back, the second as he struggled and fought and no matter what he did he was pinned against the wall, and the fist pounded into the small of his back, mashed into his kidneys, and his teeth were tearing into his lip, the blood trickling down his chin, and...

No. No, that had happened before...and fuck knows it would happen _again_...but right now there was no sign of Dad and he couldn't hear anything in the apartment.

He crept out of bed, shivering slightly as the cold hit him, and he made his way cautiously across the floor, reaching out for the light switch, flicking it on and off.

Nothing.

Dead bulb.

He breathed a sigh of relief. And here he was, getting worked up over nothing.

Still...

He opened the living room door gingerly. Total darkness. Total silence, which was more to the point. He tried the light switch here. Nothing again. Huh. Not just a bulb then.

Could just be a powercut. Or a fuse or something. He bit his lip and pretended, just for once _pretended _that he was the optimist. But it was the middle of the night and his feet were frozen and he was alone.

He put on a couple of pairs of socks and went back to bed. Maybe things would look better in the morning.

_(Maybe he'd wake up in a world where he wasn't going to be on his own over Christmas, in an apartment without heat or lights.)_

He hoped Danny was having a good time. Wished he was in France with Danny, lying on a beach or something. That's what people did on vacation, wasn't it? Sand and sea and warmth. Closest he'd ever got was Chicago last month, and that hadn't been anything like warm.

Wasn't the warm weather he wanted though. Just Danny would do him fine.

God, he hoped Danny was okay.

He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper under the blanket, curled up as tight as he could get, fighting for the slightest scrap of warmth.

He'd like to see the ocean some day. He bet it was beautiful. Vast and blue and beautiful.

He fell asleep, dreaming of impossibly blue waves and Danny smiling.

Was light when he woke up, and that was something. But it was still unfeasibly cold. And when he tried the light switch it still didn't work. None of the light switches in the apartment did, in fact, and none of the sockets either. Not the electric fire and not the kettle, and he gave each a look of deep burning betrayal, as he wriggled into the warmest jumper he could find.

Fuse box seemed fine and, when he leaned out the window and looked round, seemed like everywhere else in the building and in the block had power.

Fantastic.

Been a while since this had happened. The last couple of years it seemed Dad had been paying the bills on time. He'd figured that maybe not having to...take care...of Mom and her habits had made it easier.

Could be a mistake, he supposed. Some kind of administrative oversight. He hadn't seen any bills, after all.

Dad wasn't here right now and Rusty had no way of knowing when he'd be back. Could be today, could be a week. But if he came back and the power was off...it would be Rusty's fault. Because he'd had the heating on, because he cost too much money to keep, because he hadn't reminded Dad to pay the bill...didn't matter what the logic was, it would be Rusty's fault and Dad would act accordingly.

Alright. Maybe he could do something about it. He could try, at least. First thing to do was to find the bill. He hadn't seen one for a while. Certainly it wasn't lying around the living room or the kitchen anywhere.

He glanced at the door to Dad's bedroom uneasily. Oh. Not somewhere he wanted to go. He'd lived in this apartment his whole life and he hadn't been in that room more than a handful of times. The last time had been when they'd been looking for his schoolbooks, and Dad had come in and they'd been trapped and cornered. He shivered and it wasn't the cold.

This was necessary. He'd be quick. In and out as fast as possible and if he even _thought _he heard the front door, he'd run.

Gingerly, he pushed the door open and walked inside. There was stuff strewn everywhere. Not exactly the easiest place to find _anything _in. Now, where would Dad have put a bill...?

He spied a piece of paper lying on the bed and looked at it hopefully. Not the bill. Just a scribbled note from Joe, telling Dad about some magical opportunity out of town. Looked like Dad would be away till after Christmas.

That...he couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Yeah, Dad not being here was always _safer, _but Dad paid the bills. That was the way it worked. Dad paid bills and rent and gave Rusty money towards the shopping and the laundry, and it was fucked up but it _worked. _Meant he had a home to go to. A roof over his head, a room that was warm, clean clothes and food in the fridge – he didn't take that shit for granted. But Dad wasn't here and the electricity hadn't been paid, and he was on his own.

He still had to find the bill.

He found it lying discarded on a pile of clothes, torn angrily into several pieces.

"Oh, real mature, Dad," he muttered, gathering it up furtively and leaving the room as quickly as he could.

Five minutes and some sellotape. That's all it took to piece it back together and he was left staring at the total in bewilderment.

Three hundred and six dollars and eighteen cents. _Three hundred and six dollars and eighteen cents_?

How the fuck was it that much? How the fuck...

He scanned the bill instead and closed his eyes in frustration. Right. Looked like they hadn't paid for _months. _No wonder they'd been cut off.

Okay. He rubbed his fingers round his mouth. There had to be something he could do about this. He didn't want to spend Christmas in the cold and the dark, after all, and he didn't want Dad to find out about this, so there had to be _something _he could do.

Thing was, right now, he didn't even have the eighteen cents. It had been a tough month. Not much time to go out and get some money, and his savings had evaporated, bit by bit, and then the rest had gone on the jacket for Danny. And _that _was...well, that was worth it. Obviously. He hadn't seen Danny smile like that in far too long.

He couldn't regret any of it, just that it did leave him somewhat lost. He picked up the bill again and studied it. There was an address here. An office in town. Maybe...maybe he needed to go talk to them? Maybe there was something he could work out with them. Safe to say they weren't gonna turn the power back on just because he _asked, _but maybe he didn't need to pay the whole thing right away. Maybe if he went there with _some _money, made a token payment, promised they'd get the rest of the money just as soon as he – or Dad – could, maybe that would be enough.

Had to be worth a try, right?

And that meant that pickpocketing was the plan for the day. Well, it already had been. Just that he'd been planning on spending the money on food and stuff to do him for the next few days. Mmm. He'd probably _still _have to do that. Just...less. If he ate as little as he could get away with then he'd be able to save more money.

Too bad Mabel was away visiting her sister for the next couple of weeks; she almost always gave him more than he paid for.

He frowned; oh, that wasn't right. He shouldn't think like that. Was talking advantage of Mabel's good nature and that just wasn't acceptable at all.

Didn't matter; wasn't an option anyway. Mabel had told them about her Christmas plans and she'd sounded excited. Nieces and nephews to spoil and bake for. He hoped they appreciated her.

Okay. He'd skip breakfast. There was still a little food left, and the longer he could make it last the better. Might as well just go out to their usual haunts and rustle up some cash.

He worked as hard as he could all morning and it still wasn't enough. There were several rules, when it came to lifting wallets, and Bobby had taught them a few new ones last month.

Don't make eye contact but don't look away. Don't stand out but don't look as if you're hiding. Make the lift but don't touch them. Get away fast but don't run. Was all a clever balancing act. And the marks themselves...no one who couldn't afford it. No one who was in a hurry because there was no way of getting in their way without being noticed. No one who was just looking round because they might be too observant. No one who looked too helpless and no one who looked too dangerous. And no one who looked like they deserved the money more than he did.

This time of year that was a tough order. There were a lot of people shopping. Lots of parents with bags of toys. Lots of old folks with their frozen turkeys. Lots of smiling and excitement and anticipation and laughing children and he couldn't bring himself to steal from any of them.

God, he hated this time of year.

So the holidays had gone and brought out the best in people and now he felt like he was the bad guy for even _considering _lifting someone's wallet, knowing that it might just be the shitty thing that ruined Christmas. _Fuck._

He pulled his coat tightly around himself, still shivering slightly.

He'd managed to get a few. The cold weather didn't exactly make it easy either. People weren't exactly stopping to window gaze and even though he was keeping his hands shoved deep in his pockets as much as he could, his fingers were still a little clumsier than usual. And, even though he didn't want to admit it, not having someone to watch his back made everything that bit harder. And after four hours of careful work, he'd made fourteen dollars and seventy eight cents.

Normally that'd be enough to last him a few days at least. Maybe even a week or two, depending what was happening.

Right now it seemed like nothing. Not nearly enough. But he figured it was time to move on from this place anyway.

That was another of the rules. Don't work one place too long. If a couple of people reported losing their wallets to the cops there was a chance that someone would sit up and take notice, and even come down to take a look.

Let's see. The office was over on the other side of town. Probably it would take at least an hour to get there – he'd have to take two buses. And probably the office closed at five...if he left now he could work the neighbourhood around of the office for a couple of hours. Not like he'd get much, but he'd get a _bit._ Every little helped, right?

Sneaking onto buses wasn't exactly easy. When he'd been a kid he'd sometimes been fortunate enough to get a soft-hearted driver who'd let him off in exchange for some tale of parental injury or illness. But the older he got the less sympathy seemed available. Nowadays he didn't even try. Instead he found a family with a lot of kids and followed them on as the harassed mother paid, trying to vanish among the crowd.

Worked for the first bus. Unfortunately when he tried to get on the second bus at the depot, the driver spotted him. He handed over the fare with a sigh. Might only be a quarter but right now he didn't exactly have it going spare.

He got off the bus a couple of blocks from the power company offices and started work again. At least the bus ride had given his hands a chance to warm up a bit and that made everything a bit easier. If his hands shook people would notice when he slipped into their pockets.

For the rest of the afternoon he found a convenient doorway to huddle in with a good view of the street. Kept him at least a little out of the cold and meant that he could just sneak out every time he saw a likely mark.

Trouble was this wasn't a shopping district. There were fewer passers by and most of them weren't actually carrying much cash. First three wallets he got had nothing worth mentioning. Pocket change. Barely a dollar between them. The last had a ten dollar bill and that wasn't nothing certainly, most days that would do him nicely...but he was still a long way off his target.

Half four and he stood outside the power company offices.

He'd been thinking how to handle this in between making lifts. Not like he'd ever done this before and it wasn't _his _name on the bill. They might just refuse to talk to him. Might insist on talking to Dad. That's what had him _really _worried.

Polite, respectful, apologetic and above all, just the messenger. That was the best shot he had.

There was a long queue and he stood quietly and patiently while it inched forwards, painfully aware of all the puzzled, questioning looks he was getting. Eventually it was his turn and he walked up to the counter and waited.

The man behind the desk – whose badge proclaimed that Mr Lewis was happy to help – ignored him.

There were plenty of times in his life when Rusty would be delighted to be ignored. This wasn't one of them.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said softly.

Mr Lewis looked up and eyed him wearily. "Yes?" he drawled.

"My Dad sent me here to talk to you," Rusty explained. "Our power's been cut off and he was wondering if we could do anything."

With an impatient sigh Mr Lewis held out his hand. "Bill."

"Here you go, sir," Rusty said, handing it over.

Mr Lewis held the sellotaped paper at arms length, eying first it then Rusty disdainfully.

Somehow Rusty felt himself flush. "It accidentally got ripped," he was compelled to explain.

"Of course it did," Mr Lewis agreed mockingly. "It was an accident."

Right. Rusty took a deep breath. "I know we owe a lot – "

" – over three hundred dollars," Mr Lewis nodded. He smirked. "Do you happen to have it on you, little boy?"

"No," Rusty said evenly. "Dad was hoping that we might make some sort of arrangement? That if we agreed to pay so much a week you would be willing to reconnect us?"

"Oh, _was _he?" Mr Lewis sneered. "And so he sent _you _down here to negotiate the best terms. Why didn't he come himself?"

"He has a bad back," Rusty said immediately. "He can't really leave the house too well."

"Uh huh," Mr Lewis nodded. "And why doesn't he call us?"

"We don't have a phone," Rusty explained evenly.

"Or write a letter?" Mr Lewis went on. "Oh, wait, let me guess – he's not too good at writing either."

"No," Rusty said innocently and he was very conscious of where the door was and he just wanted to turn tail and run. The counter between him and Mr Lewis was some comfort. He didn't _think _that the man could easily reach over and grab him.

As if to prove him wrong, Mr Lewis leaned over the countertop, bringing himself closer to Rusty than Rusty felt comfortable with. He wasn't going to take a step back. He wasn't going to take a step back...

He took a step back.

"You should tell your deadbeat father that he's not the first one to try and earn sympathy points by taking his snot-nosed brat along to plead his case," Mr Lewis said scornfully. "But he's the first one who's too lazy and cowardly to even bother showing up himself."

Rusty bit his lip.

"And," Mr Lewis continued. "If he _really _wants to make sure his poor little darling children aren't cold and hungry, maybe he should try paying what he owes us."

The words hit Rusty hard. After all, Dad didn't care, but _he _did. Maybe this was his fault. Maybe he should've been more on top of this whole mess. Kept an eye out for the bills. Make sure they were actually paid.

Little late for might have beens.

Pretty obvious that this Mr Lewis enjoyed the feeling of power. He lowered his eyes submissively. "I'll tell him, sir."

"Good," Mr Lewis smiled, his lips thinly. "Good boy. Now let me go check out the details on your account."

He disappeared up the stairs at the back. Rusty sagged against the counter, fighting down the feeling of humiliation. This was...this was okay. The man had a point after all. They'd owed money, the money hadn't been paid...it was a pretty simple process after all. And if it got the power back on this was all worth it.

There were still people giving him strange looks. The woman on the other desk and her customer...he'd swear they were whispering about him. He ignored them studiously. Figured that he'd be a bit younger than the people they normally got in here. Or maybe it was just they'd all heard how much he owed.

After ten minutes or so Mr Lewis reappeared and pushed the bill back into Rusty's hand. "You can tell your father that we will not be able to work out any payment arrangements he said brusquely. "It seems this was the third arrangement that you've failed to keep up with. We will not reconnect you on the basis of worthless promises."

His promises weren't _worthless. _He choked back the sudden flash of anger with an effort. "So you want the full three hundred and six dollars, right?" he asked.

"And the thirty dollar reconnection fee," Mr Lewis agreed. "Yes."

_Thirty dollar reconnection fee?._...alright. Fine. Whatever. He took a deep breath. "How about if I...if _Dad_...brought you, say, half the money this week? Would that make a difference?" If they had the bulk of the money there, in their hands, surely they'd be able to see that his word was good. And that would be difficult, it'd mean working flat out, but if he was good and if he was lucky it might just be possible.

Mr Lewis eyed him speculatively. "That would certainly be looked on favourably," he allowed.

Finally! Something going his way at last. He resisted the urge to smile triumphantly. "Alright," he said with confidence. "When do you finish for Christmas?"

"The 24th at noon," Mr Lewis told him.

Two and a half days to make over a hundred and fifty dollars. That was tight but doable. He smiled. "I'll be back with the money then," he promised and he turned and walked out.

Okay. This took some thinking about. For a start he was going to have to walk home. That trick with the bus failed more often than it succeeded and he needed every last coin. From here it would take maybe a couple of hours to get home. That wasn't too bad. And he could maybe grab a couple of wallets on the way.

Also he'd need to eat. He was getting hungry. Well that didn't necessarily need to involve any money either. First shop he came to he wandered in and shoplifted a couple bars of chocolate and a bag of cheetos while the owner wasn't looking, and he ate half of them as quick as possible in a doorway. There. Enough to keep him going and he'd save the rest for later.

It started snowing on the walk home. That was just...terrific. Wasn't heavy but it was persistent and it was _cold._

By the time he got back to his neighbourhood he was miserable, frozen and soaked through. He didn't go home though. He'd been thinking about that. There was still more money he could get tonight.

Bars and liquor stores. He hung around outside, waiting for the absolutely drunk, and he twisted in amongst the laughing and singing crowds, dipping his hand into pocket after pocket, trying to avoid anyone who looked angry, trying to avoid anyone who looked _interested._

Didn't altogether work. A kid hanging around bars at this time of night was going to draw attention, no matter how drunk people were. A few times someone spotted him and grabbed out for him, laughing or swearing and he twisted away, not wanting to hang around to find out what they wanted.

And even after the third time he ran, hearing the raucous voices behind him -

"_Hey, little boy! Why don't you stick around to play!"_

"_Come back here and have a drink with us, why don't you?" _

- even after that, he moved on to another bar, shivering as the snow kept falling. God, he was cold. As long as he was sticking close to the walls it kept off him a bit. And he was only going after the people who were too drunk to notice him anyway.

Was about one in the morning when the streets died down and he trudged back home. He'd got about another twenty five dollars. That wasn't bad.

The apartment was barely warmer than the outside and of course it was dark. Fuck. He should've picked up some candles while he was in the shop. Why hadn't he thought of that?

He sighed. Tomorrow. He'd do it tomorrow. Right now he just wanted to go to bed.

As fast as he could he stripped off his wet clothes and changed into something dry. Huh. He still felt cold. He pulled on another jumper and a second pair of pants and crawled into bed, wrapping himself up in the blanket as tight as possible and he was asleep almost immediately.

_He was back living in that alley from two years ago only now it was snowing and he couldn't get warm and Mr Lewis stood over him, holding Wolfy just out of his reach, scornfully telling him that if he wasn't such a deadbeat he'd be warm and safe and he could have his precious cat back, and then somehow Mr Lewis morphed into Bossman, laughing down at him, telling him to try harder, telling him to just pick a few more pockets, and then Mack and Joe were holding him down in the snow and he was shivering and struggling and he couldn't escape... _

He woke up with a start and sat up quickly, shivering and staring around his room, expecting to find himself back in the alleyway.

Nothing here but his room and the cold.

Huh. Just a nightmare.

He wondered if Danny was dreaming. There'd been so many nightmares since Danny's father died. And now Danny was far away, and Danny _needed _him, Rusty was sure of that.

Danny needed him and he could do _nothing. _His fists were clenched tight, pressing against his temples. God.

He lay back down and closed his eyes and eventually he slept.


	38. Unseasonal Part 3

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.  
**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen  
**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen  
**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 & 37) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen  
**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)  
**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'  
**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

22nd December 1978

He was woken the next morning by a knock on the door.

Yawning, he rolled out of bed, and if it was possible he'd swear he actually felt more tired than when he fell asleep.

Mom was standing at the door when he opened it, looking cheerful and disapproving all at once. "Are you not dressed yet, Daniel?" she started. "It's nearly half nine."

"Good morning, Mom," he said quietly, standing aside obediently as she swept inside.

"This vacation is _not _an excuse for you to stay in bed till all hours of the day watching TV," she stated, glancing pointedly at the television.

Was showing some talk show. Danny had no idea what it was about. He flushed dully and turned it off hastily. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Now, Mr and Mrs Merrivale have been kind enough to invite us along on a trip to a couple of the museums. We're meeting them downstairs in ten minutes. You'd better hurry." She turned to leave.

"I'd thought..." Danny started before he managed to stop himself. He'd thought maybe they could have a quiet day together. He'd thought maybe she'd let him talk about Dad. He'd thought...

Mom turned round and looked at him enquiringly.

He shook his head and forced a smile. "Nothing."

"Ten minutes," she emphasised and the door closed behind her.

God, he wished Rusty was here.

Took him fifteen minutes to get downstairs, showered and dressed and presentable.

Everyone was waiting for him. Mom's lips were in a thin line. "_There _you are. Honestly. You're never on time."

For a second he contemplated pointing out all the ways that was unfair. For a second he contemplated pointing out all the times _he'd _been the one waiting and all the times she'd never even shown. But he already knew that there was no way of saying that which wouldn't leave him accused of being a petulant teenager.

"Sorry," he said instead, the picture of contrition, and he contented himself with imagining the look of indignation in Rusty's eyes.

"That's quite alright, Daniel," Mrs Merrivale said, amidst a general murmur of agreement and sympathy.

Inside where no one could see he stilled. Something felt very wrong here. They were looking at him completely different to the way they had yesterday.

"Barbara was telling us about your father last night," Mr Falconer explained. "And I wanted to say how sorry we are. Such a tragedy."

"And I'm glad you're dealing with it better now, dear," Mrs Falconer added. "You need to be strong. For your mother."

She'd told them. She'd _told _them? These people he'd met yesterday, these people he was never going to see again and she'd just given away his weakness and his vulnerability like it was _nothing?_

He couldn't let them see the hurt.

"Thank you sir. Ma'am," he said, voice brittley polite, smile distant and tight. He didn't think it would have fooled anyone who knew him for a second.

They were all oblivious. Even Mom.

"These things are so difficult," Mrs Falconer went on, and the pity was real enough. Just that he didn't want it. "But really, life goes on. You need to make the best of things. There's no point in spending all your time moping. Time heals all wounds, you know."

"Thank you for the advice," he said, his voice low and steady, and objectively he knew this shouldn't be as painful as it was.

Mercifully they moved on then, talking about the plans they were making for the day. Danny didn't hear a word.

The museum was unbearable. They just wouldn't stop giving him these sympathetic looks and all he wanted to do was melt into the floor.

Mom grabbed him by the elbow right at the entrance to the Renaissance exhibit. "For heaven's sake _try _to cheer up a bit, Daniel," she hissed. "I know it's difficult for you. I'm not completely insensitive, but you're bringing everybody's mood down."

"Sorry," he muttered, plastering a smile on his face.

He managed to make it last three rooms. Until the classic sculpture display when Mr Brownlie stood behind him and murmured "You really need to think of your mother, Daniel. You're the man of the family, you should be looking after her. Think of what _she's _lost. You don't want her worried about you as well, do you?"

Just for a moment he wondered how it would be if he told the truth. If he pointed out that Mom and Dad had been separated and Mom had already been seeing someone else by the time Dad died. That Mom hadn't loved Dad for a very long time, if she ever really had. That Mom had _said, _on the night of Dad's death even, that she wasn't sorry he'd died.

He never would of course. But sometimes it was nice to imagine the reactions, assumptions crushed.

He ducked his head, hoping that the urge to hide the pain would be taken for guilt or contrition or anything else.

First opportunity he ducked back behind the group, finding a radiator and crouched next to it, holding his face against it for as long as he could stand the burning. Then he hurried back to Mom before it wore off.

"Mom, I'm really sorry, but I don't feel well," he said, making his voice waver just a little, putting the tiniest hint of a sway into the way he was standing.

She looked at him sharply, sighing in exasperation. "You do look flushed," she agreed and she grudgingly raised a hand to his forehead and it was all he could do to stand still and bear it. Felt so different than when Rusty did the same thing. "Yes, you've got a temperature. _Really_ Daniel," she said crossly and she never liked it when he was ill.

"Sorry," he muttered again.

"I suppose you want to go back to the hotel and get to bed," she went on.

He nodded eagerly. "Yes. Please," he said then waited a second. "You don't need to come though, Mom. Stay here and enjoy yourself. I don't want to spoil your vacation too."

She hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," he said. Oh, yes, he was very sure. "I don't want to be selfish."

That seemed to convince her. "Very well," she nodded. "Here's something for a cab. Mind you go straight back and to bed. I'll come and check on you after dinner," she added. "And try and feel better. Drink lots of fluids and order anything you like from room service. Don't worry about the bill."

He smiled at her. "Thank you, Mom," he said in a low voice, genuinely grateful and just a little bit guilty for the lie. She really was thinking of him. "Tell the others I'm sorry please?"

"Of course," she agreed. "Feel better, Daniel. Get a lot of rest."

Mom had given him money for a taxi and that meant that even though the walk was kind of tempting, space to clear his head, he had to get a taxi, and he was back in the hotel before he knew it.

He paused in the front door of the hotel. Yvette was standing by the front desk and she looked every bit as beautiful today as she had that first night. He smoothed his hair down automatically, glancing at his reflection in the glass door. He was looking okay. Certainly good enough that he wasn't going to turn around and not even risk being _seen _by a girl.

Satisfied he walked through the door and as he neared the desk he realised what he couldn't have seen from the outside – Yvette was talking to a woman who was standing behind the desk. Not just talking though. Arguing. And the woman was elegant, in her late forties, and the family resemblance was marked. _Had _to be her mother. Oh, fuck. He was walking into a family argument. He tried to speed up, tried to look like he was paying no attention and couldn't even see them.

Just before he drew level with the desk, Yvette yelled something that Danny was pretty certain would be covered in one of Rusty's tapes, and stormed off towards the stairs. Her mother sighed loudly and Danny smiled awkwardly at her and kept walking.

Didn't really surprise him when he found Yvette sitting on the stairs. She didn't look up as he approached and he didn't think she'd heard him.

He stood over her and suddenly he couldn't remember a single thing from French class. "Etes-vous bien?" he asked awkwardly at last, and he was almost certain that was what he was trying to say.

She looked up at him and smiled somewhat shakily. "You can speak English," she told him. "I must practice."

He nodded, admittedly relieved. "_Are _you alright?" he asked again.

"I am not good," she admitted with a sigh. "Ma mere...it is troubling."

"I'm sorry," he said and with full sympathy. "Parents are difficult."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I would like to get away from here for a while. There is a cafe, dans le parc. Would you like to buy me a coffee?"

He didn't hesitate for a second. "I would love to."

Yvette grinned at him, then as she looked towards the door her smile faded. "We will need to walk past ma mere," she said reluctantly.

He could understand how she felt. Made him think of all the times he didn't want to face his parents and the tree that was the solution. "There's the side door at the restaurant," Danny suggested instantly. "It leads into the garden and there's a sidegate as well, isn't there?"

She blinked at him, clearly startled.

He shrugged. "It's always good to know where the nearest exit is."

"Pardon?" she frowned.

"Doesn't matter," he said with a smile. It was still true though. A habit that had been drilled into him by Rusty. Walk into a room and the first thing to look for was all the possible escape routes. Rusty wanted him safe and Danny took that seriously. "Anyway, we can leave that way and your mom wouldn't see us."

"I like the way you think, Danny," she said with a smile that made him feel warm inside.

Sneaking out was easy but it still made Yvette grin. In fact she was still smiling by the time they got to the cafe. Mind you so was Danny.

"You look happy," Yvette murmured as she raised her cap to her lips.

He grinned. "Here I am, in France, sitting across from a beautiful girl, drinking coffee and watching the people go by. What more could I want?"

That was a different sort of smile. "You think I am beautiful?" She sounded delighted.

"Oh, yes," he nodded. "Very much so."

She lowered her eyes, looking at him daintily through her eyelashes. "Well you are very handsome. Tres...sexy."

Oh. That was...unexpected. She had to be at least three years older than him. And he might have wondered, might have, well, fantasised, but he hadn't actually thought that his interest might be returned. If it was. Maybe she wasn't meaning what it _felt _like she was meaning.

"Cigarette?" She offered the packet to him and he smiled and took one.

"Thank you," he said, and he quickly gave her a light.

"Thank _you_," she said in turn, inhaling slowly.

Danny lit his own cigarette and promptly had to fight the urge to burst out coughing. Oh these were stronger than the brands he usually got back home.

"Danny?" she said after a second. "Thank you for taking me out like this."

"It's my pleasure," he said with truthful gallantry.

"My mother...she is too strict," Yvette started, staring down at her cup. "I am only home for three weeks over Noel. Ma mere, she asks me to work in the hotel all the time. I want to enjoy myself. Is that wrong?"

"Not to me," Danny said at once.

"She has all these...what is the word...expectations? She wants me to study hard at l'universite, and she wants me to work hard here, and I want to relax. She does not remember what it is like to be young."

"I know how that feels," Danny said slowly. "My Mom expects lots of things from me. And I disappoint her a lot."

"Ma mere is disappointed all the time," Yvette nodded. "I tell her she should get used to it. She shouts a lot recently."

From what Danny had seen Yvette had been doing most of the shouting. But there had been times – many, many times – when he'd had the urge to shout at _his _parents. He wasn't going to go around judging because someone else had actually gone through with it. "It's painful, isn't it?" he said instead, his voice soft and understanding.

She shot him a look of surprise and empathy. "Yes," she agreed quietly. "It is painful. Papa died three years ago. It has been me and ma mere ever since. Things are not as they were."

"My Dad died five weeks ago," he told her before he'd even thought. "I miss him."

"I miss my papa so much," Yvette said wistfully, and instinctively he reached across the table and laid his hand on hers.

There was silence for a long time.

"I should be going back," Yvette said, with a sigh. "I am working soon."

Danny nodded. "I'll walk you," he agreed.

"Merci," she said, smiling again and her dimples were showing. She hesitated as she stood up. "One of my favourite films is playing in town tomorrow evening. Would you perhaps like to see it with me?"

"I'd love that," he said immediately.

"Well, good." She smiled some more.

"Good," he repeated. Then he hesitated. "Uh...except Mom might have plans for me. I don't know. I'll check and let you know."

Yvette raised her eyebrows. "Do you always do what your mere tells you?"

"She's paying for this vacation," Danny pointed out and Yvette nodded and seemed to accept that.

They left the cafe, walking back to the hotel, and Yvette glanced sideways at him. "I do like your jacket."

"Thank you," he said with a smile, and somehow they had stopped walking and they were standing in the entrance to the park as Yvette smoked another cigarette.

"It makes you look like a bad boy," she went on and her grin was wicked. "Are you a bad boy, Danny?"

He smiled back at her. "I have my moments." He fingered the sleeve of his jacket, still smiling. "I like this jacket too. 's an early Christmas present."

"From your mother?" she guessed.

"No," he said, laughing at the thought. "From Rusty."

She looked at him, her lips pursed. "Rusty is your girlfriend?"

He laughed, making a mental note to tell Rusty that his name sounded girlish. "Rusty's a guy. He's my friend." He paused for a moment and that wasn't nearly enough to explain Rusty. "My _best _friend," he expanded further. Still not enough. Still not even close. He sighed. "If the world ended tomorrow, Rusty is the person I'd want to spend my last hours with."

She blinked at him and he got the idea that she didn't entirely understand what he'd just said.

"Never mind," he told her, knowing that he'd come close to revealing more of himself than he really should. Right now though it almost didn't seem to matter.

She grinned happily at him and with just a little encouragement she was telling him about the movie theatre and about the times she'd had there with her friends, and about getting thrown out for dropping paper planes over the balcony, and in return he was telling her about the movie theatre back home, about him and Rusty sneaking in behind the concession stand, about everyone betting Rus' he couldn't eat a whole bag of popcorn in less than three minutes and about the looks on their faces when Rusty promptly used his winnings to buy a bigger bag.

She was laughing right along with him, her eyes smiling, hanging on his every word, and somehow they stopped in the little patch of trees just outside the hotel, and she was holding his hand in hers, and somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forwards and kiss her.

Time seemed to stand still. The kiss was deep and perfect and forever.

"You are so beautiful," he told her softly, a second after they broke apart.

"Thank you," she said, her lips glistening. She glanced at her watch and sighed. "I need to run. Tomorrow night though, yes?"

"If I can," he cautioned and part of him was already considering all the ways he could sneak away if Mom said no.

"I will be crossing my fingers," she assured him and she ran off towards the hotel. "Au revoir, Danny."

"Au revoir," Danny said and he followed at a more leisurely pace. He wanted to at least _try _to stop smiling before he got upstairs. Not least because he was supposed to be sick and a lovesick smile wasn't one of the recognised symptoms.

Not that he was lovesick.

This was just...one kiss and a bit of flirting. All just a bit of fun, a fleeting holiday romance. He'd listened to her problems and of course she was going to feel close to him. And just because he felt...all the connection, the magic, it didn't _mean _anything.

God, he'd give anything to be able to talk to Rusty right now.

Mom wasn't back as far as he could tell, which was good. He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about Yvette.

After a while he fell into an uneasy sleep.

He was only woken up when Mom knocked on the door to see if he was okay and to tell him that, since he was sick, she was going to go out with Mr Brownlie.

That was just fine with Danny. He ordered a grilled chicken sandwich from room service and sat and watched incomprehensible old black and white TV shows until he couldn't stay awake any longer.

He hated being alone.

* * *

By the time morning came Rusty must have fallen asleep a dozen times. At no point did he think he'd managed to stay asleep for more than an hour or so. He thought it might be the cold that kept waking him up. Like it was actually too cold to sleep. God, why couldn't this have happened in summer? It wouldn't have mattered a damn.

And as cold as he was, he still didn't want to get out of bed. Would be worse when he got up, he knew that. Too bad just _not _getting up wasn't exactly an option here.

Eventually it was hunger that got him up. Still he shivered and swore the moment his feet touched the air. Cold, cold, cold _cold._ And he was even wearing two pairs of socks.

He hurried through into the kitchen as fast as he could. Might as well get on. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he'd wasted enough of the day already.

Huh. It actually seemed to be a little warmer in the kitchen. No windows of course. That was probably the difference. He should maybe remember that.

Right now though it was time to check out the fridge. Might as well eat up anything he could; the power was out so it wouldn't keep. Although really he doubted that the kitchen was _that _much warmer than the fridge was meant to be...better safe than sorry anyway.

Breakfast turned out to be a mug of mildly soured milk, a small lump of cheese and five slices of processed ham. Probably just as well there hadn't been much else there.

Afterwards he took the time to go through the cupboards. Couple of tins of spaghetti-o's...he could eat them cold, no problem there. Likewise the tins of baked beans. Jar of peanut butter, tiny scrape of jelly...might be worth while picking up some bread if he had the time. An almost-empty box of frosted flakes, and he was immediately cursing himself for not having them with the milk. Still, they tasted alright on their own. Finally a packet of instant noodles. And they were supposed to only be made with boiling water, and that was in short supply. Mind you he had eaten them dry before and even though it was like eating wood, they hadn't actually killed him. If the worst came to the worst he sure as hell wasn't ruling it out just cos he didn't like it.

Still food wise it looked like he was set till after Christmas. He still had the chocolate and half the Cheetos from last night as well. He could pick up a little more junk food when he felt like it, but at least he wasn't in any danger of starving.

He could imagine the look on Danny's face, the quick covering quip to the effect that junk food would _always _be Rusty's priority.

God, he wished Danny was here.

He spent the morning downtown among the Christmas shoppers and stealing from them hadn't got any easier. Even the loud woman with her nose in the air, even she had two bags piled high with kids' gifts, and he couldn't bring himself to take her money.

Yes, he knew logically that these were the same people he saw every day. They didn't magically need the money more _now _than at any other time of year. But that didn't change the way it felt, and he went after the business people, the shoppers who seemed to be avoiding Christmas, the empty handed.

The problem, other than his unexpected stupidly sentimental streak, was the cold. He thrust his hands deep into his pocket and repeatedly wiggled his fingers, trying to keep them as warm and supple as possible, but it wasn't enough. And he was shivering too and that was hardly helpful.

This just wasn't his day.

It got worse during the lunchtime crowd. He slipped between a couple of men heading to the sandwich shop and his hand dipped casually into the one on the left's pocket, and the second his fingers closed around the wallet, he felt the hand close around his wrist.

"Gotcha, you little thief!"

His instincts said to freeze, to look up at the man to see how mad he was, to wait for retribution.

Instinct wasn't always helpful.

He yanked his arm away hard, and it hurt like hell, but that was the least of his problems right now. At the same moment he ducked his head – trying to make sure the man saw as little of him as possible, and he was _running._

The other man tried to grab him, but he wrenched his shoulder out of the way of the reaching hand, and kept going, knowing they were right behind him.

"Stop him! Stop the thief!" the man yelled, and Rusty winced as everyone turned to look. Not good. A thousand times not good.

He had to get away from the crowds. He had to lose his pursuers. He had to avoid the cops.

In his mind was a map of the surrounding streets, and if he cut left through here, and a sharp right down this alley, and then wound left here, all the way down to the next street, and now he was away from the crowds, but the men were still chasing him. He could hear them behind him, breathing hard and still calling for him to stop, but the snow was everywhere, frozen and treacherous, so if he looped down the hill behind the phone booths, they'd see what looked like a shortcut to reach him and...

"Arrrghhh!"

"Fuck!"

He heard the sounds of them slipping on the steep frozen slope and grinned to himself, vaguely hoping that they weren't hurt. Not like he blamed them for any of this.

He kept moving until he was absolutely certain he'd left them far behind, then he ducked into a doorway to catch his breath.

Alright. Well, that had been stupid. Simple fact of that matter, it was far too cold to be picking pockets. His hands were numb, hell, his brain was numb, and he'd got caught. Was only the luckiest chance he'd actually got away. Next time he wouldn't be so fortunate. He couldn't carry on like this.

At the same time he was nowhere close to how much money he needed. He'd been keeping track and he had somewhere close to fifty dollars. Which was pretty good, but it wouldn't _do._

God, he wished Danny was here right now. Everything always seemed so much simpler when they were together.

No point in thinking about that now. He needed somewhere he could steal that was far away from here and anyone who might have seen him running, and was warm. Indoors, even.

Oh...

Department store. Of course. Why had he never thought of that before? He'd stole clothes from the one down the street often enough. It was always full of people, all concentrating on their shopping. He'd bet they'd never even notice a pickpocket.

Still, the one down there was a little too close for his liking. Not to mention that the store detective there had been eying them suspiciously the last time they'd been there, and that had been a couple of months now, but he still worried.

No, there was that new one uptown. A far better prospect.

It took him an hour or so to walk across town to the store, and by that time he was even colder.

He took an hour out to get warmed up. Wasn't time wasted. Wandering around the store, learning the layout, checking out every exit, the quickest routes through the store, looking out for store detectives, figuring out the cashiers line of sight, knowing where the managers tended to congregate. He might be on a deadline here but there was no point in doing it if he wasn't going to do it right.

Once he was satisfied that he knew enough to be going on with, he set to work.

Oddly it was actually easier here than it had been on the street. Might be Christmas, but the two women who got into a fight over the last novelty dartboard, the man who called the cashier a silly little girl and made her cry, the group of teenagers who took every dress in the shop off the hangers and left them in a heap for the harassed assistants to pick up...oh, these would always be acceptable marks and their money jumped happily into his hands.

This was a better way of working altogether, in winter at least. He'd have to suggest it to Danny for the future.

He didn't look at the holiday decorations, the Christmas food, or the excited children and their indulgent – loving – parents, looking at the toy department. He didn't even hear the cheerful Christmas music that echoed through the store. He was here to work. And nothing else mattered.

The store closed at six o'clock on the dot, and he followed the crowd to the front entrance, pausing only to let a couple of packets of candles accidentally fall into his pocket.

It was dark outside and the snow was still lying on the ground and the wind was fierce and icy and blew straight through him.

What now?

It was a bit too early to go and hang around outside the bars, but it was a lot too cold to hang around the streets.

He sighed. Maybe he should head home for a bit. Get some dinner and come back out when the drunks did. That sounded like the best plan.

The walk back to the apartment felt longer than ever and even though his hands were shoved deep into his pockets and his coat was wrapped around him as tight as it could go, he still felt like he was in imminent danger of turning into a human popsicle.

Wasn't _that _much warmer when he got in either. The windows were rattling with the wind and there was a frozen puddle of water in the sink.

Oh, this was no good. It was only going to get colder and he wouldn't be good for anything.

He opened a can of spaghetti-o's, grabbed a fork, retreated to his bedroom, lit a bunch of candles and settled down to eat, sitting as close to the candles as he could.

Even the tiny flames made a difference.

Huh. He wondered what Dad would say if he came back and Rusty had set fire to the sofa?

He ate the spaghetti-o's slowly and planned his next move, remembering the last time he'd been in this situation, back before he met Danny.

_Dad was away and Mom was sprawled on the couch with the dregs of a bottle of vodka, and Robert was huddled in a corner of the living room, shivering and reading the book that he'd got from school. Dad wasn't here, so it didn't matter that he was reading, and as long as he was good and quiet, Mom seemed okay with him being here. Maybe she even liked the company. Maybe she _wanted _him to stay. His room was cold and lonely and right now he wanted to presume on Mom's nice mood for as long as he could._

_Only trouble was his teeth kept chattering. He _tried _to stop them because smaller things had annoyed Mom past the point of endurance before, but no matter what he did, he'd be back shivering again and the noise would start up all over again._

"_Are you cold, boy?" Mom demanded, loud and sudden._

_Robert looked up quickly, trying to figure out what the right answer was. Whining was worse than lying, usually, but in this case the truth was so obvious it might just be a trick question. "Yes," he decided softly._

"_Come here," Mom said, beckoning him closer. Oh. That was rarely a good idea. He hesitated. "It's alright," Mom said, exasperation creeping into her voice. "Come _here!"

_And now it was all about whether to obey or to defy Mom, and to be honest neither sounded like a particularly good idea._

_It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. And Mom _had _been being pretty nice today. Maybe she just wanted him to go fetch something for her._

_He crept over to the sofa, dragging his feet with every step, and he stopped just out of easy arm's reach. "Yes, Mom?"_

_She half stood up and hauled him closer so he was standing right in front of her, and started rubbing roughly at his arms. He flinched with every movement. It didn't hurt, not quite, but it was uncomfortable and he was frightened and he just wished she'd stop touching him._

"_Your Dad's out getting some stuff to get warm," she told him after a few moments. "But we need to stay warm right now, don't we?"_

_He nodded dumbly._

_She grabbed one of his arms and inspected it closely, rolling up his sleeve. "Like a scrawny plucked chicken," she told him, and he tensed, not sure what she was gonna do. Maybe she meant to beat him to warm up. It wouldn't be the first time she'd been acting nice and then suddenly lashed out at him. Sometimes he could be bad without even knowing it._

"_Okay, boy, what I need you to do is go out and get as many newspapers as you can find," she instructed, standing up and shoving him towards the door. "Doesn't matter where you get them. Lots of people get them delivered. You should be able to find them no problem. And don't even think of coming back without a whole bunch of them, you understand me?" _

_It took a couple of hours of careful scavenging through mailboxes, doorsteps and dumpsters before he had enough newspapers to be certain that Mom would be satisfied. Not like he had any idea what Mom had _meant _by a bunch anyway. _

_She'd fallen asleep by the time he got back, and he approached the sofa cautiously, shaking worse than ever._

"_Mom?" he said softly and she snapped awake, staring at him in confusion. "Mom, I got the newspapers."_

"_I don't read that garbage," she grunted without even looking. "Take them away. Where's Robert, anyway?" _

"_Dad's not here right now," Robert explained. "He went to get some stuff. You sent me to get the newspapers. To keep us warm."_

"_Right." She focused on him a little more coherently. "Yeah, we might as well do that." She snatched the papers out of his hand and dropped them on the floor, and he stepped back fearfully, but she lunged forwards and grabbed him, her hand closing around his upper arm, crushing and bruising, and while he was struggling to get away, she hauled his sweater and t-shirt over his head until he was standing there, bare and shaking._

"_That's good," she announced vaguely._

_Robert didn't think so and he tried again to tear his arm away and his Mom didn't even seem to notice. "Now," she went on, picking out a paper and shaking free a single sheet. "What you gotta do is wrap this around yourself, okay? Just like this. Wrap a couple of sheets around your chest and stomach and then put on your tightest t-shirt to keep 'em in place, you get me?" She matched her actions to her wards and Robert was standing there in his t-shirt again and the paper felt strange against his bare skin. "Then you put another layer of paper over the t-shirt, put on another top, then more paper, more clothes...as much as you can get. Then you're warm, see?"_

_He did see._

"_You can even stuff some newspaper down your pants if you like, though if you're anything like your Dad you won't need to," she added with a chuckle._

_Robert wasn't paying attention. He was covering himself with another layer of paper and pulling his sweater over the top. He looked at Mom with wonder._

"_Feels warmer, doesn't it?" she nodded. "Don't say your Mom never taught you anything."_

_He felt a whole lot warmer and he smiled gratefully at Mom. "Thank you," he said softly._

_She smiled back. "You've got a really pretty smile, boy. You should use it more often. Men will do a lot for a pretty smile. Now, take your book to your room before your Dad gets back."_

Layers of newspaper. It had been a long time since he'd had to use that trick – nowadays when he was cold and the power was off, he'd stay at Danny's. At Danny's insistence, after all.

Course they didn't get newspapers delivered, but Mr and Mrs Waterman downstairs did, and they got the evening edition, and Mr Waterman didn't get back till about eight, so chances were good it'd still be lying out in the hall.

He was in luck, he managed to sneak downstairs without anyone seeing him and pick up the paper. Hopefully there was no news in there that the Watermans couldn't live without till morning.

Stripping down to his bare skin in this temperature was most definitely not appreciated, and he might just have set a new record in pulling his clothes back on. There. Including the newspapers and his coat, he was wearing six layers. Should be enough to take the edge off. He sat in his bedroom for a moment, almost testing it. Certainly it felt a lot warmer, though it did nothing to help with the draft on his face and neck. And he rustled if he moved around too much. Still he wasn't going to complain.

There was still a few hours before he wanted to head out to the bars, so he took the tape player out of its hiding place and settled down to listen to his French tape.

Of course, he reflected, looking at the tape player. There was one obvious way for him to get some cash together. It's what Danny would want after all. When given a choice between Rusty freezing and putting his Christmas gift in hock for a couple of weeks, Rusty knew what Danny would pick every time.

That was the pragmatic option. The logical one. And Rusty could never ever even consider it. Might be rampant sentimentalism, but just the idea of discarding anything that Danny had given him...oh, it wasn't gonna happen. Not even if it was the only choice he had to get the cash.

It wasn't, of course, and after a few hours he headed out and wandered through the crowds of drunks, silently lifting as many wallets as he could.

Even with the paper insulation he still felt the cold. By midnight the snow was falling and with the wind picking up it was practically falling sideways. He huddled in a doorway and his hands were almost too frozen to light his cigarette. He kept his hands wrapped around his lighter for a long moment, burning the tips of his fingers painfully. The temptation to just call it a night and head home was _enormous._ But he hadn't even made seventy dollars total yet, and as long as there were still marks on the street he wasn't going to call it quits.

He managed to fall in with a large and raucous crowd somewhere outside McSorleys, and he stayed with them as they wandered to Pinkies and then out to the Bluebell Lounge. They all seemed happy enough to have him along, shoving him around and calling him names cheerfully.

"Hey! Rugrat. Your Momma know you're out?"

"Want a drink, sissy? I'll get you a beer at the next bar."

"Hey, sweetcheeks, you got a dollar? I'll show you something that'll put hair on your chest."

"Fucking tagalong."

He made no objection and he had the chance to steal all the change they shoved into their pockets. He followed them as long as he dared, and at the Bluebell Lounge he slid onto another group going to Rudie's, and then picked up another after that.

It was maybe three in the morning when he finally got home. Good thing he'd had the sense to leave a candle next to the door, he was able to get it lit and stumble through to his room.

God, he could smell the smoke, the booze and the cheap cologne on himself. But still the idea of getting changed for bed was remarkably unappealing. He got as far as taking his snow-covered coat off and he let it fall to the floor, before falling into bed and pulling the blanket over his head.

The wind was howling through the window. He was so cold

Oh, he wished that he was with Danny right now. It wasn't that he didn't think he could do this...he could get through this, after all. He'd get the money and everything would be fine. But it would be so much better if Danny was here. So much better if he could talk to Danny right now.

Quietly he crept under the bed and pulled the blanket with him.

He hated being alone.


	39. Unseasonal Part 4

**A/N: InSilva is less impressed with me...  
**

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38 & 39) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

23rd December 1978

Danny woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. Terrific. Mom probably wouldn't turn up looking to go down to breakfast for hours yet, and somehow he didn't think it would be a good move to go down on his own. In all probability, Mom would regard that as a slight of some kind.

He took his time getting ready, wondering all the while what the best thing to do about tonight was. He wanted to go on the date, but equally he did want to spend time with Mom. She was all the family he had left, after all, he wanted to make the effort and get to know her better. Form some kind of connection. If she wanted to. So far, there hadn't really been much sign of that. Maybe all she actually wanted was to get him away from the house for Christmas. He supposed he could understand that.

Although if that was the case, maybe she wouldn't mind if he took Yvette to the pictures after all. It would give her a chance to go spend time with her new friends, after all. And Yvette was beautiful and charming and funny and her mother did own the hotel, which might just be the sort of thing that mattered to Mom. Maybe all he had to do was ask and Mom would be happy for him. Maybe.

He really wanted to go. He leaned his head against the tiles and let the warm water wash over his face, and thought about ways he could sneak out if Mom _did _object, thought about Yvette and a darkened movie theatre, giggling in the dark, the feeling of her hands, flat against his chest as they kissed...

He opened his eyes and quickly turned the water temperature down as low as it could go.

By the time he was done with his shower it was still barely half six. He sighed and dressed quickly. Still nothing to do. He switched the TV on and flopped down onto the bed. Didn't seem to be anything on but the news. A reporter standing on a ship in front of some tropical island, talking seriously into a microphone. No subtitles and Danny didn't pay enough attention to actually follow the story. He wasn't honestly interested.

He left it playing though. It was company of a kind. He sighed; he had to remember that even if he was at home right now, Mom might well not have let Rusty stay over. She got stricter nearer Christmas. Mmm. That wasn't quite right...she got more _observant_ over Christmas. More inclined to notice when he wasn't living up to her standards. Point was, even if he was at home, he might still be lonely. And Rusty might still be alone.

God, he hoped Rusty was okay right now. So easy to imagine how Rusty might not be. So easy to imagine Rusty trapped in his room, hiding from his Dad. So easy to imagine Rusty not being able to hide any longer.

This was a miserable way of spending Christmas.

Mom knocked on the door at eight and seemed surprised to see him up. Fortunately she didn't say anything. "Time for breakfast, Daniel."

He followed her downstairs in silence.

"I thought we might go to the park today," Mom began, over croissants and coffee. "Apparently there is one at the top of the hill that has spectacular views over the Mediterranean."

That sounded...that sounded like it was just going to be the two of them. Danny looked up from stirring his coffee, trying to deal with the sudden surge of hope.

"It's quite some distance away," Mom continued. "We'll need to take a cab, unfortunately, but I thought after you weren't feeling well yesterday that the walk in the fresh air might do you a bit of good."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, because even if he wasn't a fan of the great outdoors, it sounded so much better than another day of wandering round a museum, being told what he should find impressive. "That sounds brilliant, Mom." His smile was warm and dazzling and Mom blinked and pinked slightly.

"You really should smile more often," she commented absently, before she shook herself and went on. "That's settled then. I'll book the taxi straight after breakfast."

Danny had been half-hoping to see Yvette at the desk when they were heading out, but there was no sign of her. He did wonder about leaving a note, but he didn't think they'd be away _all _day. Probably he'd be able to speak to her when they got back.

The park _was _very beautiful, and the views of the city and the sea were truly breathtaking. The weather wasn't warm, but it wasn't freezing either, and the sun was shining brightly and they walked through the park and Danny couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed in his Mom's company.

They talked, intermittently, about school and work, and even though Danny was carefully sticking to safe topics, talking about school assignments he'd done well in, and about funny things that other people had done, and about teachers, and never about him and Rusty, Mom seemed to be interested and Mom seemed to be listening to him, and he wished it could stay like this.

(_Why couldn't it always be like this?)_

Presently they stopped for a while, leaning on the railing and looking out at the sparkling blue sea below.

"Your father would have loved this place," Mom remarked, her voice so quiet that for a moment Danny was almost sure he must have misheard.

"Really?" he asked breathlessly, turning his head to look at her.

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "He loved the sea. Every time we went away anywhere, he always wanted somewhere with a sea view, did you never notice?"

"Yeah," Danny said, thinking back. "Yes, I suppose he did."

"He even had a boat for a while when you were very young. I don't suppose you remember. A three hour drive to the coast, and he bought a boat." She shook her head, but for once the smile was almost fond. "He could be so _stubborn._"

Danny thought back a long way and he could remember wearing a bright yellow life jacket, could remember leaning over the side, trying to catch the waves, and Dad laughing and dragging him back up while Mom yelled. "We went fishing," he remembered. "Dad let me steer the boat."

"That's right," Mom nodded, looking pleased. "Though he never actually let go of the wheel. You _were _four, Daniel."

He supposed that made sense. And he _did _remember, but he'd always thought that he was remembering one of the times in Miami and Uncle Ed's boat.

"I made him get rid of the boat shortly afterwards," she added, turning away, her voice blank.

Danny didn't bother asking why. Dad with a boat...he'd be willing to bet that he wasn't the only person Dad entertained onboard. And Mom was stuck at home looking after _him._ "What did he call it?" he asked instead.

"Ocean's Dream," Mom said, after a second's thought. "I think that I might have a picture of the three of us on board back home, if you're interested."

He tried not to look too hopeful. They'd never taken many photos as a family. He didn't have _any _photos of Dad. "I'd like that," he said softly.

There was silence for a time.

"I really miss Dad," Danny admitted eventually, very, very quietly and his voice cracked and he stared blindly out at sea as the silence stretched out impossibly.

"Daniel?" Mom said tentatively at last, and he almost jumped at the hand placed gingerly on his arm. "Danny, it will be okay. I promise."

Just because Mom said it, didn't make it so. She didn't have that power.

He closed his eyes and he _wasn't _crying, he wasn't, and the silent sobs shuddered through him and Mom patted him on the arm and awkwardly murmured incomprehensible soothing nonsense.

Presently, when he'd managed to compose himself, they walked on in silence and he got the impression that Mom was desperately searching for something to say. Personally, he was quite happy with the lack of talking. Now that emotion had retreated a little, for the moment, he was feeling embarrassed and exhausted and vulnerable and the last thing he needed was for Mom to think he was weak.

The silence stayed till they'd walked back down the hill and reached the edge of the park, and Mom pointed at a restaurant on the other side of the street with relief. "How about we have a spot of lunch there?" she suggested.

"Sure," he agreed, and he couldn't quite summon up the energy to care that much.

The restaurant seemed nice enough when they were inside though. The waiter sat them immediately at Mom's imperious gesture, and brought them iced water and the menus.

"I wanted to talk to you, Daniel," Mom said, looking at him intently, after she'd ordered for them both and the waiting staff had made themselves scarce. "About Robert."

He froze. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no, no, _no. _They were not having this conversation. Not now, not ever again. He thought he'd made himself perfectly clear a long time ago. "This isn't a good time, Mom," he said stiffly. There would never be a good time.

She held up a hand in what was obviously meant to be a calming gesture. "I'm not saying you should stop being friends with him, Daniel. This isn't about him, it's about _you._"

He waited enquiringly.

"Do you ever think that you're too reliant on Robert, Daniel?" she asked abruptly.

Did he think _what? _"No," he answered shortly.

She sighed and leaned forwards across the table. "I watched you, after your father died. The pair of you. You clung to him and he encouraged it."

He bit the inside of his mouth hard. Rusty hadn't encouraged it like she meant. Rusty had given him everything he needed. Everything he never got from Mom. "Rusty is my friend," he said steadily, the anger boiling away inside. "I was upset and he was there for me. There is _nothing _wrong with that."

The waiter glided over with their food and laid it down in front of them and there was silence for a few moments, until they were alone again.

He might have hoped that she just dropped the whole thing, but he didn't have that kind of luck.

"That kind of behaviour is just about forgivable in a child, Daniel," she said, laying her knife and fork down on her plate. "But you're almost an adult. You need to start behaving like one."

"Adults don't have friends?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "Huh. You really do learn something new every day, don't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Daniel," she snapped. "I'm trying to have a serious conversation here. I'm trying to treat you like a grown up. The least you could do is act like one."

"This is not a serious conversation," he said tersely. "This is a conversation we don't even need to have. I told you a long time ago, you shouldn't make me choose."

"There's no need to be so dramatic," Mom said loudly, and people were turning to look at them. "No one is asking you to choose. I'm not saying you should stop seeing Robert, I'm just suggesting that maybe you should reconsider how close the two of you are. Is this..._dependency..._really what you want? It makes you _weak, _Daniel."

"We have very different ideas what makes someone weak," he said, staring at her. Without Rusty, he'd be alone. Without Rusty he'd barely understand what it was to love, to be loved. And that was what Mom _wanted _for him. He couldn't help but shiver.

Her hand slammed down on the table impatiently and her voice was loud and shrill. "You aren't listening to me. I'm not saying that Robert has deliberately taken advantage of you, but do you honestly want to be in a position where you feel like you can't do without him?"

Danny was already in that position. Danny figured he'd probably been in that position since he was nine years old. And that was nothing to regret. He looked at her evenly. "People are staring, Mom."

She glanced around quickly and flushed with embarrassment and indignation. "They shouldn't be listening," she said, as if that was the point. "We will continue this discussion later, Danny."

Yeah. Danny would rather not.

They finished their meal in awkward, painful silence and he followed Mom outside and into a cab without asking where they were going.

He'd known for a long time now that Mom didn't understand him. That she didn't approve of the things that mattered to him. But he'd always assumed that she didn't approve of him and Rusty because she didn't think that Rusty was good enough for him, because of some twisted sense of social standing. The idea that she'd disapprove even if Rusty was rich...God, it made him angry. Here he was, trying, making an effort to get on with her, and the simple truth was, no matter what he did, it was never, ever going to be enough.

What he had with Rusty...the love, the connection that he never truly tried to understand...it was the brightest light in his life. And _she_ treated it like it was an embarrassing vice.

All the fondness he'd felt this morning as she'd let him talk about Dad was evaporating fast.

The cab took them straight back to the hotel and Mom didn't talk to him, didn't look at him once. Danny sat beside her, his hands resting on his knees, his nails digging into his palms. Normally, this wouldn't happen. Normally, if Mom was in this kind of mood he'd run, he'd go to Rusty until Mom had calmed down a little. But now...he didn't know anyone here. He didn't have anywhere to go. All he could do was go with Mom.

He was glad Yvette wasn't there as he trailed through the lobby after Mom. Right now, he didn't think he wanted to see anyone.

They were hardly through the door of his room when Mom turned on him, and it was like she'd been saving up every scrap of anger.

"Right," she said grimly. "Let me tell you a few things now we're away from the busybodies. This so-called friendship of yours is an embarrassment, but I put up with that as best I can. If you really want to be seen with that boy, I'm not going to stop you. And I admit that there have been times when I've thought he has been a useful friend to you...but that doesn't mean you should get so used to relying on him. You need to expand your horizons, Daniel. You need to get used to standing on your own two feet. Putting yourself first. And you need to cultivate other friendships so you're not so reliant on Robert."

"I have other friends," he said, trying to keep on top of the anger, trying to manage it. "It's just that Rusty is my best friend."

"Really?" she sounded disbelieving. "I never see any of your other friends."

"No shit," he said and as her face darkened, he spoke quickly. "Everyone apart from Rusty stopped coming over to the house some time in fourth grade, when they realised they couldn't spend half an hour at my house without hearing you and Dad _screaming _at each other. You know how many of the kids in my class have heard you call Dad a useless skirt-chaser? Most of them decided not to come over anymore. Hell, some of them their _parents _said they didn't want them coming over anymore. Rusty is the only one brave enough to face you for my sake."

For a moment, Mom looked mortified and he realised that she'd never considered that before. Almost immediately though, she rallied. "None of that was my fault! Your father _was _a useless skirt-chaser," she snapped loudly. "You should be ashamed to be related to him. He was a philanderer and a waste of space, so of course I argued with him on those occasions when he actually bothered to show his face at home." The look she turned on him was bitter and familiar. "The man was worthless and you're his son alright."

His nails were digging into his palms again and he was breathing so hard his chest ached. He loved Dad, he missed Dad, but he didn't want to be like him. He was _terrified _of being like him. "I'm not – " he started, his voice low and unsteady.

Mom steamrollered over him mercilessly, her voice rising all the time. "He ruined my life. I had to stay at home, looking after you, and he just kept right on gallivanting around with his floozies and whores."

It hurt and it was true, and still he felt the need to speak up for Dad, cos he couldn't speak up for himself anymore. "It's not like you were faithful either," he pointed out desperately. "I know that. There was Mr Dennis when I was a kid, and that parson a few years ago."

Her face turned ugly and she took a step towards him, and for a moment he thought she was going to hit him and it was all he could do to avoid taking a step back. He wasn't gonna let her see he was scared.

She stood inches away from him, practically screaming in his face, the way she'd used to do with Dad. "That was your fault, Daniel! If it wasn't for you, I'd _never _have married Luke. I'd never have stayed with him, for even a minute. I had to put my career on hold. I had to stay at home and watch you and be a dutiful wife and mother instead of getting on with my life. I gave up _everything. _And for what? A selfish brat who doesn't even have the grace to be grateful?"

He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. But at the same time, he wanted to tell her he was sorry, and he wanted to promise that he could do better. Most of all he wanted to run home to Rusty.

"Mom, I – " he tried and he didn't even know exactly what he was going to say.

Not that it mattered. The mere fact he was talking only served to make her angrier. She struck out blindly, her hand slamming against the table beside them and the glass water bottle smashed at Danny's feet. ""I didn't ask to have you! I considered it every day until it was too late. And don't think that your precious father wasn't pressing me to get rid of you, every step of the way. I didn't _need _to keep you, you know!"

There was a beat of silence, and the misery was shuddering through Danny, almost physically painful. "...I suppose I should thank you for that," he said, his voice soft and hollow.

That seemed to trigger something. Not guilt, exactly, not regret, but Mom took a step back from him, giving him a little more space, and he breathed a little easier.

She wasn't finished though. "I'm very disappointed in you, Daniel. You've been unbelievably rude today and you've been sullen and moody since we left home. I don't care for your attitude at all. I'm going out tonight with Charles. I want you to stay in and think about what you've done. Consider yourself grounded."

"Fine," he snapped, and he didn't know whether it was anger or willpower that was keeping him on his feet. "You enjoy yourself."

She stormed off towards the door without a backwards glance, and suddenly he was remembering his birthday, and the phone call from Dad and the last words that he couldn't take back, and his mouth was dry with terror.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he said, the fearful words dragged out of him.

She didn't look round but she paused in the doorway. "I love you, Daniel. Though God knows, you don't deserve it."

The door slammed behind her.

Danny sank to the floor. He wasn't going to cry. He _wasn't. _No matter that it felt like something had broken inside him, no matter that he'd never felt so alone in his life, no matter that he wanted Rusty there so bad it _hurt. _

He sat huddled beside the bed, his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around himself, and if he closed his eyes he could pretend that it was Rusty, that Rusty was here holding him, telling him that Mom was wrong to talk to him like that, telling him that he wasn't alone, telling him that none of this was his fault, that he deserved to be loved and taken care of.

Rusty wasn't here though. He was alone.

He was alone and he couldn't stop _shaking._

A little time went by and there was a hesitant knock at the door. Probably Mom coming back, wanting to argue some more. He wondered how much trouble he'd get in if he just ignored her.

No, that wasn't an option here.

He stood up unsteadily and rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and when he opened the door he was looking as cool and invulnerable as he knew how.

Yvette stood in the doorway, smiling shyly at him. "Hello, Danny. May I come in?"

He blinked, taken aback for a long moment, then he remembered himself and stepped aside graciously. "Of course. Come in."

"Your mother has left," she told him as she walked into the room. "She and Monsieur Brownlie went to a Christmas party together. I do not think they will be back until late tonight."

Oh, God, that was a relief. He gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," she said, looking at him anxiously. "Is she like that often?"

He evaded the question. "You heard, huh?"

She bit her lip. "Everyone heard. There were...complaints. From other guests."

Fuck. He had no doubt he'd be hearing all about that if Mom happened to find out. She hated it when he embarrassed her in public and this certainly qualified. Just the idea of all those people hearing what Mom thought about him... "Fuck," he said aloud, soft and miserable. "I'm sorry."

"I do not think it is you that should be sorry," she said, leaning forwards and kissing him on the cheek. "Ma mere was going to talk to ta mere about the noise, but your mother, she left before she had the opportunity."

"Something to look forward to then," he said lightly.

"I thought I would come up here because I thought you could use a friend," she added and she was looking straight at him and his heart skipped a beat.

"Well, that was very thoughtful of you," he said, smiling dizzily, and he was breathless now for a whole other reason.

She grinned. "And I thought perhaps you might like to take me to le cinema. To get your mind off things."

He thought of the money in his wallet. Mom had been giving it out fairly freely lately. "The movie, and perhaps dinner first?" he suggested. "Just to get my mind off things."

"That sounds perfect," she said, and her smile was full of delight and anticipation.

She reached out and clasped his hand as they were leaving, and he didn't feel so alone.

Since she knew the area, he left her to choose where they ate, and they ended up in a nice little restaurant with bright-red table clothes and low lights.

"I have never been in here," she admitted after they were seated. "But it always looked nice as I walk past."

"It is nice," he agreed, looking round. "Good choice." He smiled warmly and took her hand across the table. "Thank you for coming out with me. You might just be the best thing that's happened to me in a while."

"Oh, Danny. I could be the best thing that's ever happened to you," she told him in an enticing whisper.

He couldn't take his eyes away from her.

They ordered their food and she asked for a bottle of wine and Danny kept his fingers crossed under the table that they didn't ask for ID. He was pretty sure you had to be older to actually _buy _the stuff. But the waiter didn't even blink and the wine was delicious and they were talking about how she found university, and how it had been difficult to make new friends, and they shared stories about growing up, about movies that they loved and books that they'd read and when the time came for him to pay the bill he was surprised at how quickly time had flown.

The movie started in ten minutes and they ran laughing through the streets and her hand was in his and he felt so _happy. _

This moment right now made everything seem worthwhile.

They just managed to get to the cinema in time for the movie to start, and Yvette talked to the man in the ticket office, and Danny handed over some money when prompted, and then they were sitting in the back row together and the lights were down, and he hesitantly put his arm around her, and she giggled softly and leaned in closer.

It was inevitable that he didn't follow most of the movie. And if anything Yvette's soft voice whispering explanations in his ear only made it more difficult to follow.

But he understood about Antoine's parents arguing all the time, and about the mother's affair, and the father hitting him. He understood the escape Antoine found in his best friend and the way he turned to petty crime to solve his problems.

And in the end, Antoine's parents abandoned him and Danny buried his face in Yvette's ash-blonde hair and let the heady smell of strawberries overwhelm his disquiet and she lifted her head and kissed him like her life depended on it and he felt so close to her in that moment, felt like this could last forever.

"I always feel sorry for Antoine," Yvette said, as they left the theatre. "He did not really do anything bad."

He grinned, trying to dispel the darker mood. "And that matters? I thought you said you like bad boys?"

"Oh, I do," she assured him, following his lead and twining her fingers through his. "Very much so. And you are such a bad boy, aren't you?"

"Like I said, I have my moments," he told her, smiling.

"Really?" She stepped closer to him, moulding herself against his side as they walked. "What is the worst thing you have ever done?"

_The taste of alcohol in his mouth, his fist crashing against the wall, Rusty's eyes, wide and frightened... _"The most illegal, you mean?" he asked softly. "Or the worst?"

She gazed at him quickly, her thumb tracing lines over his knuckles and she said nothing for a long moment. "The most illegal," she said at last. "If you do not mind telling me?"

He could tell her that. He could tell her that easy, and he _wanted _to impress her, wanted to feel that he was different and dangerous and exciting. "Well, it's difficult to categorise these things," he mused lightly. "Would you say that forging checks is more or less illegal than breaking into a shop?"

She stopped walking. "You...you..." She shook her head slowly. "Mon dieu, Danny. Are all American boys like you?"

"Oh, no," he assured her. "I'm completely unique."

She laughed, soft and bell-like and it echoed in the crisp night. "That is good to hear. I do not know that the world is ready for two of you." She was looking at him, and her eyes were warm and intrigued, and she was far from upset by his little revelation. "There is a bar round the corner, would you care to buy me a drink?"

Yes. Oh, yes, very much so, but right now he was driven with the urge to show off. "I'm a little short on cash," he lied, and he watched her face fall and he smiled. "Would you mind waiting there a moment?"

Puzzled, she stood in the doorway and watched, and he crossed the street, heading with disguised purpose, for the distinguished-looking man in the tall hat, and he brushed past without even hesitating, and when he got back to Yvette, he showed her the wallet and her mouth fell open.

"You just stole that," she said, her voice awash with awed admiration.

"Yes," he agreed. "I did. You still want me to buy you a drink?"

"Very much so," she said blankly.

The bar was crowded and it was only by good luck that they managed to get a couple of seats on the end of a table. Even then, it took fifteen minutes for them to actually get a couple of drinks.

"So you steal things," Yvette said, and thankfully she was keeping her voice down at least. "Tell me about it. Please."

He told her. Stories stumbled past his lips and it got easier and easier as he grew in confidence and she looked at him with amazement and wonder. Stories of places they'd broken into, thefts they'd pulled off. Things he'd never told anyone before. Things that only he and Rusty knew. And she looked at him like he was the hero in their own little story, and it made him feel warm inside.

"It sounds incredible," she said with a sigh when he stopped talking, and her bare foot was caressing his leg, and his hand was on his, and every touch was electric. "So exciting."

"Oh, yes," he agreed, and he didn't know if he meant then or now.

"We should be heading back," she said reluctantly. "Mama does not like it if I am out past midnight."

He hadn't realised it was quite so late. Reality came crashing back. God, if Mom had noticed he was gone after she told him he was grounded...he could be in a lot of trouble here. "Sure," he agreed unhappily.

She must have noticed something in his look. "The Christmas party, it is one that Monsieur Brownlie attends every year," she reassured him. "He is never back before two o'clock in the morning. I do not think your mother will ever notice you have gone."

"Thanks," he said with a soft smile.

She leaned forwards and kissed him tenderly. "You are my bad boy, but I do not wish you to get into trouble."

Somehow, he liked the idea she was looking out for him. It made him feel...deserving.

They walked back to the hotel in happy silence, and when she shivered slightly, he took his jacket off and draped it carefully over her shoulders. She smiled at him and never said a word.

They stood in the lobby by the elevator, and Danny wondered if he should invite her up to his room, wondered if he dared, wondered if she'd say yes. He'd never felt this way before.

"Goodnight, Danny," she said at last.

"Goodnight," he echoed, and he knew he'd lost the moment. "Can I see you again?"

"How about tomorrow?" she offered.

From experience, he knew that Mom would still be mad at him. Probably she wouldn't even want to see him until the evening at least. Maybe not even then. "How about brunch?" he suggested. "I'll meet you in that cafe from yesterday."

"It's a date," she told him, and she leaned forwards and kissed him, and it was a long, perfect moment when there were no other thoughts in his head but the girl in his arms.

"Tomorrow," she said with a giggle when they broke apart. "Eleven o'clock. Don't be late."

He wouldn't. And it _was _a date. Their second date. Third, if you counted the park yesterday.

He walked up to his room in a kind of daze and threw himself on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off.

God, he wanted to talk to Rusty about this. He wasn't sure where this was going. Wasn't even sure where he _wanted _it to go. All he knew was that she made him feel amazing and she made him feel special, and he didn't want it to end. But he was only here for four more days.

If it wasn't for Rusty, he'd be tempted to stay right now. On the very edge of sleep, he imagined it. Imagined somehow finding enough money to send to Rus' so he could get a plane ticket out here. Imagined the two of them living here...he'd find work, somehow. Enough to get by, and Rusty would be thousands of miles away from his Dad, safe and sound and happy, and Danny would have Rusty and he'd have Yvette and he'd never have to worry about anything again.

It was all impossible. But God, it was a nice fantasy to fall asleep to.

_He waited in the diner for hours, trying to convince himself that Rusty would show up any minute. It got dark quickly. Rusty didn't come._

_Rusty was never late to meet him. Not out of choice anyway. _

_Something was wrong._

_He left the diner and hurried round to Rusty's apartment building. Or at least he tried to. The streets were familiar, and he was on the right block, but the building wasn't _there. _Instead the two neighbouring buildings joined together like there'd never been anything between them._

_Panicked, he grabbed the arm of a passing stranger. "Excuse me, sir, but where did the building go?" _

_The stranger frowned down at him, and suddenly it wasn't a stranger, it was Dad. "You got rid of it, Danny. Sometimes getting rid of people is the right thing to do." _

"_No!" he protested, stepping away from Dad. "No, I didn't do that." _

_The street was suddenly thick with people, pressing in all around him, and Dad was carried off into the crowd, and Danny knew that once he lost sight of Dad he'd never see him again, but he needed to go and find Rusty because Rusty was lost._

"_Dad!" he screamed, and Dad just waved back, uncaringly. "Dad, don't leave! Please!" _

_The crowd was jostling him now, kicking and elbowing and hurting, and he couldn't escape and they were carrying him away, and he stumbled and nearly fell and when he looked back up Dad was gone._

"_No!" he moaned. _

_Not again. Oh, God, he'd lost Dad all over again and he'd just got him back._

_There was a scream somewhere in the distance, somewhere behind him. Rusty. His heart quickened. Rusty was somewhere close by, being hurt, and he had to get to him._

_He had to get to Rusty and he had to get to Dad, and he couldn't even _move.

"_My bad boy," Yvette murmured and she was standing untouched in the midst of the crowd._

_He turned to her desperately. "Help me," he begged. "Please." _

_She looked at him uncomprehendingly._

"_Go and find my Dad," he pleaded. "Bring him back here. I need to get Rusty." _

"_It's too late," she told him, and he knew in that moment that Dad was _dead, _that Rusty was _dead _and they weren't coming back, they weren't ever coming back, and the crowd gathered tighter around him, and he couldn't even see Yvette anymore, and they pushed him to the ground, buried him beneath them, and he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and Rusty was dead and Dad was dead and he was _screaming...

He woke up in a cold sweat, his teeth tearing into his lip to hide the scream.

Nightmare. Just a nightmare.

It was dark and he was shivering and he was alone.

He huddled under the blankets and _wished._

* * *

Rusty woke up shivering and aching. Sleeping under the bed might currently be warmer than sleeping _on _the bed, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. Mmm. Maybe tonight he'd take all the clothes he wasn't wearing and make a mattress out of them. Would be kinder on his back anyhow.

He crawled out and stood up slowly, still wrapped in his blanket. If possible it was even colder this morning. Considering the wind howling in the window, louder than ever, he went to have a look in case it had managed to rattle itself apart in the night.

It hadn't. But outside was completely blanketed in white _and _the stuff was still falling. There had to be six inches there at least.

Fuck. He stared moodily out of the window for a while, chewing on his lip. If it was as bad as it looked, how many people would be out shopping? If there were no shoppers then he wouldn't get money and the apartment would stay cold and dark.

No point in worrying about it immediately. _Someone _would surely be out. And maybe he'd have to be less discriminating than he really liked to be, but even thought it was Christmas, he still had to live.

First things first, he really should get cleaned up a bit. And that wasn't gonna be any fun at all at these temperatures. Giving himself a quick once over at the sink would be a lot easier, but even a cold shower would get him a whole lot cleaner.

The need to be clean won out in the end. People noticed a dirty kid after all. But he couldn't help but cry out when the not-quite-frozen water hit his body. This was how he imagined it would feel like to go swimming at the North Pole.

Afterwards he dressed as quickly as possible, replacing the layers of newspaper and pulling on three tops and four pairs of pants. He grinned at his reflection in the mirror; if Mabel saw him looking like this she'd stop worrying about him being too skinny for a while at least.

Speaking of which...

He went through to the kitchen, grabbed the box of frosted flakes and ate a few handfuls straight out of the box. Alright. Plan today was to head back to the department store, but he might as well count up his money first.

Took him a moment to carefully go through all his pockets, digging out his takings and he carefully spread it over the floor, notes in one pile, coins in another, and started counting.

One hundred and three dollars and eighty four cents.

That wasn't bad. Better than he'd been thinking, honestly.

So he had to make at least sixty five dollars by tomorrow lunchtime. That sounded doable. Even in this weather.

His carefully hid half the money along with the tape player, and the other half in the crack in his wall beneath the window, and headed out the door, stopping only to grab his coat off the floor. Ugh. His coat was still unpleasantly damp and cold.

Outside and the snow wasn't quite as bad as it had looked. Certainly it was only falling a little, so he stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and started walking towards the department store, lost in thought.

Five more days till Danny came back. He hoped Danny was okay. Wasn't the first Christmas Danny had spent without his Dad, of course, but it still wasn't going to be easy and Danny had been so miserable lately, so angry. And yes, Danny's Mom was making an effort...but she didn't _like _it when Danny was upset and not in the way that Rusty didn't like it. Sometimes it seemed like she'd rather Danny didn't have any emotions at all.

Was he being unkind to think that Danny's Mom would never put Danny first? He had a horrible feeling he was being realistic.

And that left him with unpleasant visions of Danny's Mom getting fed up of Danny, running off to do her own thing and leaving Danny upset and alone, in a strange city, and that was almost too awful to contemplate. Danny could look after himself, Rusty knew that. Only right now he shouldn't _have _to.

His train of thought was neatly derailed when he walked round the corridor smack into Norris, Chuck and Bill.

None of them had any particular reason to love him and Danny, and right now Norris was staring at him like it was Christmas.

Apparently finding Rusty on his own was enough of a present.

God, these guys must really be bored.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Ocean's little sidekick," Norris said gleefully.

"Hello, Norrie," Rusty grinned. There was a school of thought that suggested it wasn't _smart _to taunt those who were bigger and stronger than he was, but Rusty hated backing down.

Norris' face darkened noticeably. "Don't call me that," he hissed. "Especially not when Ocean's not here to save your neck."

Right. Norris didn't think he could take the two of them, so he thought that maybe he and his friends could go after Rusty. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Anyone ever tell you that you're really boring?" he asked. "Oh, and predictable. Boring and predictable and not even a little bit frightening."

"Oh, you're going to be frightened," Norris assured him, recovering slightly. "You're going to be in for a world of fear."

"Uh huh," Rusty agreed unmoved. "Whatever you say, Norrie."

Norris changed tactics abruptly, looking at Chuck with an expression of glee. "Say, you know what I'm going to buy with my Christmas money?"

"No," Chuck said obediently. "What?"

"Ryan's Mom," Norris crowed. "You want in with me? I hear she gives discounts for group bookings."

Rusty let the words wash over his head and reminded himself for the hundredth time that he didn't even care about Mom. "So what you're saying is you can't even get laid without one of your little friends being there to cheer you on?" he asked. "That's really pitiful, Norrie."

Norris took a menacing step forwards and Rusty stepped back quickly, standing against the low wall behind him, and he scooped up a handful of snow behind his back.

The punch that came towards him was entirely expected and completely signalled, and he ducked under it easily, reaching up and forcing the handful of snow down the back of Norris' neck, and Norris squealed loud, high and girlish, and Rusty had already turned his attention to Chuck and Bill, far faster than they could react, and he kicked Chuck hard in the side of the knee, at the same time as he punched Bill in the side, seeking out his kidneys. By the soft grunt of pain, he guessed he'd found them. Oh, he knew what hurt.

Norris was pawing frantically at his jacket, and Bill was doubled up and breathing hard, but Chuck was still standing and glaring at him, and this wasn't over, not by a long way, and he seriously doubted he had a hope of winning.

"That's enough!" a voice suddenly commanded, and a second later a woman was standing between them, glaring at Rusty.

He blinked, his fists still clenched, and he was confident he'd never seen her before in his life.

"Now you leave those poor boys alone, you little hooligan," she shouted at him.

Huh. He wondered if she'd even noticed that there were three of them and one of him, and he was half a head shorter than the smallest of them. He guessed that the point was that he'd thrown the first connecting punch. And he was winning.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she went on fiercely, and Norris and his cronies were laughing fit to burst behind her back. "Look at you running around getting into fights in this weather. Do your parents even know where you are? Look at you out here with no gloves even. It's a disgrace."

She seemed to have run out of steam for the moment. Which was good. Grateful as he might be for the interruption, he wasn't exactly keen on being lectured.

He gave her a slight nod and started walking away.

"You stop right there, young man," she shrieked, and Rusty wondered why in the world he'd do that. "You're going to come back here and apologise to these boys."

He turned his head slightly. "No I'm not," he said levelly, and as she spluttered, he carried on walking.

Thankfully she didn't follow him.

And he could be pretty sure that Norris wouldn't either. Right now he'd watched Rusty get a lecture for being a hooligan. That was probably as much of a victory as Norris really wanted to risk. He might like to look tough, but he knew that if he hit Rusty there'd be consequences. And not just a lecture from some strange woman either.

Still she had a point though.

Gloves. What a good idea. He'd never had a pair of gloves before and now he couldn't think why he hadn't thought of it earlier. He'd pick some up in the department store.

The day went much the as yesterday. If anything, the store was _more _crowded and more full of people who were rude and yelling. Way he figured it, if they weren't going to play by the true-meaning-of-Christmas bullshit, there was no reason for _him_ to.

Of course, they kept the store warmer than outside, and after less than an hour, he was overheating. With a grimace, he snuck into the restroom and removed the layers of newspaper. Oh, that was better. He could always pick up some more tonight.

He wandered back into the department store and got to work. Money just sort of fell into his pocket and by the time it was getting dark outside he was confident that if he wasn't _at _his target, he was only a couple of dollars shy.

Everything, in other words, was going just fine and he headed round to the kids' department to check out gloves. He was admiring a purple-striped pair when he was suddenly conscious of someone staring at him. A sort of prickling on the back of his neck that set all his instincts screaming.

He put the gloves down carefully and glanced around casually like he was just checking out the other displays, searching for who and why.

Fuck.

He only just managed to keep from reacting. Standing at the other side of the aisle was the store detective from the other department store. The one who'd suspected them. And, safe to say, he'd been recognised.

Recognised but not _spotted _surely. Yes, if he'd been shoplifting they might have waited for him to try and leave the store so they could catch him red-handed. But he hadn't, he'd been lifting wallets and surely if they'd caught him in the act, they'd have done something.

On the other hand if they'd had reports that there was a pickpocket operating...He gritted his teeth. Time to leave. Right now. Except the man was _still _watching him and he didn't want to look panicked.

He turned back to the gloves thoughtfully. Maybe if he actually _bought _something...?

"Rusty!"

Well that was unexpected.

He turned to see Brady Taggart beaming at him. "Hi, Rusty. Fancy seeing you here."

"Hey, Brady," he smiled, and at least that looked normal. "Happy Christmas."

"Yeah, you too," Brady nodded. "Are you having a good vacation?"

"It's been different," Rusty said truthfully. "How about you?"

"Oh, it's great," Brady enthused. "Except Mom dragged me here to get a new tie to visit Grandma." He rolled his eyes.

Rusty grinned. "Tough," he sympathised.

"There should be some sort of rule about wearing ties at Christmas," Brady complained. He glanced behind Rusty, frowning. "Is Danny here?"

"No, his Mom took him to France for Christmas," Rusty explained.

"Oh." Brady blinked. "That's good, I guess?" He hesitated. "Wouldn't he have rather stayed with you though?" he asked, stumbling over the words quickly.

Mmm. Rusty smiled. "France is a nice place. He's probably found some pretty mademoiselle already."

"Right." Brady nodded quickly. "I didn't mean anything."

"'s cool," Rusty assured him.

"So how come you're here?" Brady went on hurriedly.

"Looking at gloves," Rusty explained.

Brady followed his gaze. "They're very...purple. And a little pink."

"Yeah," Rusty agreed contentedly.

"You going to buy them?" Brady asked.

"Not right now," Rusty said, and the store detective wasn't looking his way anymore. Probably due to how completely non-criminal Brady looked. Rusty wished he could take lessons.

"Are you busy?" Brady asked suddenly. "Would you like to come over to my house for a while? Mom won't mind."

At that moment Brady's Mom walked around the corner, holding a bag that contained rather more than a tie. "There you are Brady. I thought I told you to stay – "

" – Mom, can Rusty come over?" Brady asked excitedly before Rusty could even think of saying anything.

Brady's Mom blinked and seemed to see him for the first time. She smiled warmly. "Oh, hello, Rusty dear. I haven't seen you for a while. Are you here with your father?" She looked around hopefully.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Taggart," Rusty answered politely. "No, I'm just here on my own."

"I see. Well, you're certainly welcome to come over for a while," she nodded.

"Brilliant!" Brady grinned excitedly.

Rusty hesitated. Walking out with Brady and his mother would certainly allay more of the detectives suspicions than if he just slunk off by himself. And more than that, he _wanted _to go. Brady might not be his best friend, might never know any of his secrets, but he sat with Brady and his friends in class, and he enjoyed spending time with Brady, even though Brady seemed so very young. And the idea of spending some time with a friend right now...oh, it was tempting.

He almost had the money after all. Surely he could pick up the rest tonight, if need be.

"I'd love to," he said with a smile. "Thank you, Mrs Taggart."

"That's settled then," Mrs Taggart beamed. "Have you got your shopping, Rusty?"

His eyes flickered sideways to the gloves for the briefest of seconds. "I'm done."

"Okay then. We're parked in the lot downstairs, so we can just take the elevator." Mrs Taggart said, ushering them towards the elevator on the far wall.

They were gonna have to walk past the store detective.

Rusty hoped almost more than anything else right now that he didn't get arrested in front of Brady and his Mom. He wasn't ashamed of what he did, not by any means, but he knew he couldn't explain it and he could easily imagine the looks on their faces.

He concentrated on looking relaxed and happy and all the time he was chatting to Brady about how ridiculous Mrs Leach had looked on the last day of term in that elf hat, and they drew level with the detective, walked past, and he could feel the eyes boring into the back of his skull, and he was just waiting for the shouting.

It never came.

And they were in the elevator down in the parking lot, driving away, and Rusty was grinning and giddy.

Not that it mattered. He sat in the backseat with Brady and they were talking about the class Christmas party, and the look on Miss Farrow's face when the audio tape of Children's Classic Christmas Carols had somehow mysteriously been replaced by the Springsteen tape that Rusty had borrowed from Buzz for the afternoon.

"I don't know how you think of these things," Brady laughed.

Rusty shrugged, grinning. "I just wanted better music." He glanced quickly into the rear view mirror during the story, suddenly wondering just how Mrs Taggart was taking all this, hoping she wasn't listening.

Huh. She was. And she was smiling.

Well, that was good. He didn't want to get Brady in trouble.

It took them about half an hour to drive to Brady's house. It was hardly more than a mile away from where Rusty lived, but the feel of the neighbourhood was completely different. Not nearly as upmarket as where Danny lived, but somehow...friendlier. And right now festooned with Christmas decorations. The department store hadn't had this many blinking lights and plastic reindeer. It was bright and tacky and Rusty had to admit, he loved it.

Practically as soon as they got in the house, Brady's Mom asked them to take the dogs out for a walk, and they headed out to the park, ran through the snow, threw snowballs for the dogs to catch, and it was cold but he was smiling.

Then, when they got back, Brady suggested that they made a snowman on the front lawn, and Rusty countered with the idea of a snow monster, and the daylight faded away as they played, and the six-foot tall, six-armed monstrosity with rows of sharp cardboard teeth was surely a result to be proud of. Rusty was laughing and right now his problems seemed far away.

And when Brady's Dad came home and ushered them outside, after admiring their snowmonster, everyone just assumed he was staying for dinner.

He should say no, he knew that. Unappealing as it sounded, he should go home to his cold, dark apartment, because he was standing here with fifty dollars of other people's money in his pocket and he should be trying for more, and he always hated feeling like he was scrounging food off his classmates.

He said yes and he didn't even really know why.

They were sent through to the living room until dinner was ready, mugs of hot chocolate in hand, and Brady was urging him to eat the marshmallows before they melted, and he was arguing that they were better that way.

The living room was dominated by a huge Christmas tree. It was almost too tall for the room, and lovingly decorated with shiny red baubles, little wooden figures, and wonky cardboard stars and other shapes dipped in glitter that Brady must have made a long time ago.

It was beautiful.

Rusty stared at it silently for a long time, a raw ache deep inside him that he didn't understand.

Brady put his hand gently on Rusty's arm and Rusty flinched away.

Immediately he recovered himself, turning to Brady with a smile plastered on his face. "Miles away, sorry. That's a really nice tree."

"Yeah," Brady agreed quietly. There was guilt on his face. Rusty chose to ignore it.

Fortunately, they were called for dinner not long longer, and he followed Brady through and sat down where he was shown. Wasn't the first time he'd had dinner at Brady's, so thankfully he knew the routine. Knew to wait until Grace was said, knew that talking was okay, knew about how fast people ate so he could automatically match them – knew, in short, how to look polite and unremarkable. And that was all fine, and normally he'd wait until everyone else had started eating before he ate anything, needing to be sure it was okay, and normally he'd make sure that he took smaller portions than everyone else, but Brady took the serving spoon out of his hand and added another slice of ham to his plate and two more scoops of potato.

He turned to stare and Brady was looking scared but defiant, and there was no way he could say anything without drawing Brady's parents' attention.

Brady had used to do that sort of thing back when they were kids, he remembered. He thought it was something to do with guilt.

He looked away, and when everyone else had knives and forks in hand, he ate his food.

"How's your friend," Mrs Taggart asked him suddenly. "Danny, isn't it? Brady told us about his father. Just awful. How's he holding up?"

He laid his fork down on his plate carefully. "He's doing okay," he said, and he hoped that was the truth right now. He didn't think about fights and too much alcohol, or the look in Danny's eyes when he woke after a nightmare, or days of exhaustion and apathy.

"That's good," Mrs Taggart said with a sigh. "He's so _young. _Please, tell him we're thinking of him."

"I will," Rusty promised, and maybe he would.

"Brady was saying that you were off school keeping him company," Mr Taggart added. "You're a very good friend. He's lucky to have you."

Huh. Rusty wasn't sure how sincere that was. He thought maybe there was a hint there that Rusty shouldn't have been allowed to skip school like that. Well, there was a decision he was never gonna apologise for. Danny had needed him.

Time to deflect. He turned his head and smiled at Brady. "Brady was kind enough to lend me his notes and give me a note of all the assignments I'd missed, so I was able to get caught up in no time," he said truthfully. He hadn't asked Brady for that, hadn't thought to, but he'd thanked Brady a few dozen times since, and Brady had just shrugged and said he still owed them for the golf clubs, and for making everyone stop calling him doughball, and for a handful of other things that Rusty wouldn't even think of. As far as he was concerned, he still owed _Brady _for sticking up for him with that supply teacher three years back, and for a thousand times when they'd been children and Rusty had looked to Brady to copy normal behaviour. But Brady didn't really know about those times, so that wasn't an argument.

"That was very thoughtful of him," Brady's Dad said, smiling at his son with warm pride and affection.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed, and Brady ducked his head.

"So how are you finding this science project, Rusty?" Mrs Taggart asked him.

"The constellations?" He thought fast and decided to be truthful. "I've not really thought about it yet."

"Dad's taking me to the planetarium in the city," Brady told him enthusiastically. "My uncle knows someone who works there so I reckon I can get a whole lot of neat pictures. Do you want to come too?"

The offer was genuine and maybe even a little hopeful, but Rusty just couldn't risk going along with it. For one thing, he thought that _did _sound like a great way of doing the project, and that might just draw more attention than he wanted. For another thing, from experience he knew that Brady's parents would want to talk to Dad before taking him anywhere, and that just wasn't going to happen. Ever. "Nah," he smiled at Brady. "Thank you, but no. I'll work on my own thing. Don't want Mr Lemmon to think I'm copying or anything. You know he has it in for me."

Thankfully, Brady took the bait. "He wouldn't hate you so much if you hadn't set fire to the desk."

"Accident," Rusty protested immediately. "Just an accident." In that he hadn't _known _what would happen, but he'd been quite intrigued to find out. That counted as an accident, right?

Of course, Brady's parents immediately wanted to hear the story, and the matter of the project was set aside.

While they were helping clear the table, Mrs Taggart turned to him with a look he couldn't quite categorise. Hopeful? Uncertain? Anxious? "Have you heard from your mother lately, Rusty?"

"Oh, yes," he said at once. "She sent me a Christmas card and some money last week. And a gift, but Dad won't let me open it yet."

She relaxed noticeably. In fact, she was practically beaming. "Good. That's good," was all she said. "I can't imagine..." She broke off awkwardly.

Yeah. He was sure she couldn't imagine. He could see that when she looked at Brady.

He was aware of Brady frowning at him, but it wasn't until they were up in Brady's room and alone that Brady actually asked. "You didn't actually hear from your Mom last week, did you?"

Obviously Brady was pretty convinced he already knew the answer. And that meant that lying might just be more trouble than it was worth. He sighed. "No," he admitted tersely.

Brady nodded and didn't look surprised. "How come you lied to my Mom?"

"It's better to give people what they want to hear," he explained after a moment. "There's a lot of things that adults...people...don't want to know. I prefer to give the answers that'll make them happy."

Brady nodded again, hesitant as though he wasn't quite sure if he agreed or not.

Rusty turned away from him hurriedly, and inspected a cage on the dresser with a smile. Three little mice were running around inside, and he stopped down to watch them, still smiling.

"Their names are – " Brady began.

" – Patch and Smudge," Rusty stated without looking round. "And Olaf the Brown."

Brady was staring at him.

He turned and shrugged. "You told me before."

"Months back, when I took Olaf," Brady agreed. "How'd you remember?"

"I listen when you talk," he said, and Brady's eyes softened and Rusty bit his lip guiltily, and wished he could say that it wasn't so special as all that.

"You want to play Stop Thief?" Brady asked eagerly, holding up a board game and Rusty smiled and nodded.

The evening passed in a succession of games, and they were laughing and playing and having fun, and for once Rusty didn't feel so impossibly older.

Must have been around nine when Mrs Taggart stuck her head round the door. "I think it's time we were getting you home, Rusty," she said.

"Aw, Mom," Brady objected instantly. "Can't Rusty stay over?"

He cursed himself for the sudden dart of hope that pierced straight through him.

(_It was warm and he wasn't alone._)

"I would need to check with your father," Mrs Taggart began doubtfully, and Rusty was already shaking his head.

"Dad's expecting me home," he explained. "He's working late tonight and if I'm not home when he gets back, he'll worry." He smiled brightly and continued airily. "I should probably be heading home now, actually."

Brady looked disappointed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said assuredly. He shouldn't stay here, being soft.

"Okay, I'll drive you home," Mrs Taggart offered.

"No," he objected immediately. The weather was awful. "It's not far, I can get back myself just fine."

"I'm not letting you walk home in this weather yourself, Rusty," she told him, frowning like it was the most ridiculous plan she'd ever heard. "It's dark out there and still icy."

Huh. He'd be out in it soon enough regardless. But he didn't think he was going to win the argument, and everything he could possibly say was problematic. Likely to cause concern. He resisted the urge to sigh and instead smiled graciously. "Well, thank you, Mrs Taggart," he said, getting up obediently.

"Oh, come on, the game's not finished yet," Brady objected. "We can have another half hour, right Mom?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Ten minutes," she said finally with a smile. "I'll see you downstairs."

"That's not even long enough to finish the game," Brady said glumly, surveying the board.

"It is if we play quickly," Rusty said firmly.

They did. Rusty winning by getting his little guys to corner the thieves in the bank. He didn't know why anyone would walk into a vault without an escape plan _anyway._

"We'd better go find your Mom," he said, standing up again, strangely reluctant.

"Yeah," Brady agreed, sounding just as dejected. "You know, I bet you could persuade Mom to let you stay over if you _really _put your mind to it."

It was always a good idea to _not _outstay your welcome, Rusty thought. No matter how tempting it might be sometimes. "Nah," he grinned. "I really do need to get home, Brady."

"Right," Brady said with a sigh. He rummaged around in a drawer for a moment and came out with a pair of black gloves which he held out.

Rusty made no move to take them.

"Uh, here," Brady prompted.

Mutely, he shook his head, anger and hurt quietly simmering. Maybe he didn't have much right to it, but he still had his pride. He didn't need pity and he sure as hell didn't need charity. And Brady was his friend and Brady shouldn't just go and offer him stuff like that. He'd accept things from Danny. No one else.

Brady obviously saw something in his face, because he ploughed on. "Look, I know they're not purple, but, uh, I saw...your hands must be cold and I mean...I thought...they're just a loan, if you like. You can give me them back in class, if I don't see you before."

A loan? He hesitated, looking carefully at Brady, trying to figure out if he meant it, trying to figure out if he could live with it.

Maybe...

He stretched his hand and slowly took them. "I'll give you them back the first day of school," he promised. "Thank you."

"It's no big deal," Brady said, sounding embarrassed. "They're just gloves."

He smiled, knowing that Brady understood.

The only problem was the gloves didn't fit into his jeans pocket and he'd left his coat downstairs, leaving him creeping downstairs with the gloves carefully clutched against his chest, and Brady walked behind him, watching him quizzically.

"Are you ready, Rusty?" Mrs Taggart's voice came from the hallway behind him, just when he'd about reached his coat.

Startled, he span around, automatically hiding the gloves behind his back.

She was looking at him with a frown on her face.

Fuck. Pretty clear she'd seen something.

"What have you got there?" she asked, her voice puzzled.

His mind was flooded with memory; being a lot younger and standing in Danny's hallway, Danny's Mom glaring down at him, the turtleneck Danny had lent him to hide the bruises on his throat and arms being hauled off him, standing there in his bloody t-shirt, shaking and waiting for the blow, the contemptuous little huff as she walked away and she never said a _word._

Mrs Taggart took a step closer and he flinched and tried to back away, tried to keep the way he was measuring the distance from here to the door from being too obvious.

"What's going on?" Mr Taggart asked, stepping out into the hall, and this just went from bad to worse.

Not exactly many options here, and Brady was still staring at him like he had no idea what was going on.

Silently he took the gloves out from behind his back and held them out.

If anything, Mrs Taggart looked even more puzzled. "Are those your old gloves, Brady? " she asked.

"Yeah, I gave them to Rusty. Lended them," he corrected.

"I was going to give them back," Rusty explained quickly. "First day back to school, I'd have given them back."

"I'm sure you will," Mrs Taggart agreed, but she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Brady. Smiling like she'd never been so proud, and Mr Taggart was beaming too.

Huh. Cautiously, he relaxed.

"Well," Mrs Taggart said after a second. "Rusty, we'd better get you home. Put your coat and gloves on."

Goodbyes said, he followed Mrs Taggart outside to the car. The drive back home was awkward to say the least, but fortunately the weather was bad enough that she was concentrating on her driving, and he didn't have to make more than the minimum of conversation. And thankfully quickly, the car pulled up outside his apartment building, and he climbed out as quickly as he could. "Thank you so much for the ride, Mrs Taggart. And thank you for dinner too."

"No problem at all, Rusty," she said simply. "You really must come over more often."

That wouldn't happen. But it was nice of her to say so.

He was fortunate enough to be able to lift a newspaper that someone had thrown away in the hallway on his way upstairs. First couple of pages were a little damp, but the rest should do nicely. Which was just as well as when he got upstairs the apartment was colder than ever. He'd swear that there wasn't any difference now from outside.

Grimacing, he covered himself with a couple of layers of newspaper and sat huddled on the sofa, staring at the candle light.

He shouldn't have gone to Brady's. That had been stupid and that had been weak. He hadn't truly had the time to spare, and now he felt even colder. Best not to think about what he was missing out on.

He was tired, but he went out anyway, wandering the streets and picking up as much money as he could, hoping it would make a difference.

By the time he got in again, the cold and the exhaustion were inside his bones and his hands were shaking so much it took him six attempts to get the door open. He knew it wasn't going to get better. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other. His bedroom was a step too far. He'd left the blanket lying on the living room floor that morning, and with numb fingers he managed to pull it up over himself and he lay curled on the sofa, taking up as little space as possible.

He lay shivering, listening to his teeth chatter. People didn't freeze to death in their own homes, he reminded himself. This was uncomfortable, but it'd be over tomorrow and he'd be _fine. _

One more night. That was all.

He just had to get through tonight.

And better than that, because four days and Danny would be home and they would be back to normal, and he could take care of Danny and know Danny was okay. That was all he wanted.

He just had to get through tonight first of all.

_He waited in the diner for hours, trying to convince himself that Danny would show up any minute. It got dark quickly. Danny didn't come._

_Danny was never late to meet him. Not ever._

_Something was wrong._

_He hurried round to Danny's house, and the streets were heavy with snow. Everything was blanket white, and he couldn't see six inches in front of him. It was cold, and he stumbled through the streets, and it seemed to take so much longer than it ever had before, and despite the fact that he must have walked this way a thousand times before, the streets all looked strangely unfamiliar and deserted, and he felt himself hurrying even more, unaccountably afraid._

_From time to time he caught sight of his friends through strangely open windows, saw them with their families celebrating Christmas, Magical trees, shiny presents, tables groaning with food, warmth and love and laughter. Even if he wanted to, there was no way for him to join in. He was on the outside and it was cold._

_Eventually, out of nowhere, he found himself standing outside Danny's house and it was cold and dark and forbidding. And empty._

_Danny hadn't come home to him._

_He had to know that Danny was alright._

_He walked and searched for months and months, and finally he found himself standing in a hallway somewhere. He didn't know where he was. Hadn't the first clue. But it was a long way from home._

_There was a door at the end of the hallway. It was dark and forbidding. Shadows pooled around it unnaturally and Rusty looked at it and _knew _that it was the last place he ever wanted to go._

_But that didn't matter because Danny was in the hallway, standing in front of him, and it had been _years _since Rusty had seen him, years and years, and he looked so much older and he hadn't aged a day._

"_Danny!" he cried out gladly, and he rushed forwards, wrapping his arms tightly around Danny. "You didn't come back. I was worried."_

_Danny made no effort to return the hug and the world got just a little bit impossibly colder. The wind was howling in here too._

"_Hello, Rusty," Danny said at last. "Sorry I didn't meet you. But I had to find my Dad."_

_He stared for a second. "You can't," he said quietly. "Danny, he's gone."_

_Danny shook his head, disagreeing. "No, he's just through there," he said. "I'm sorry. I have to leave you now. You just aren't enough." He took a step towards the door and to Rusty's horror it was open a fraction now, and he could just make out the shape of a figure standing there, and the familiar smell of blood pervaded the air._

_Rusty bit his lip. Danny didn't even _sound _like Danny. "Wait," he begged._

"_You let me go off alone," Danny added plaintively as he walked away. "You left me to deal with Mom and my nightmares by myself. So now I'm going to Dad. He'll treat me like I deserve." He took another step towards the door._

"_Don't!" Rusty reached out and caught Danny's sleeve, desperately trying to pull Danny away, back where it was safe._

_Danny turned round quickly, his hand raised, his eyes filled with fury. This time he didn't miss._

_The pain exploded in his cheek as he fell back, letting go of Danny in the process, and Danny stood there a second later, regarding him, his eyes blank, devoid of regret and remorse._

_And then he was gone._

_He disappeared through the door and Rusty tried to follow, screaming Danny's name frantically, but the door had vanished. There was nothing there but smooth wall, and somewhere behind it he could hear Danny's father screaming at Danny, could hear the awful insults, the hatred, and then the whistling of a belt flying through the air, the crack as it hit flesh, the unbearable gasp of pain and Rusty was screaming, hammering desperately on the wall, trying to break it down through force of will alone, and Danny's father wasn't going to stop the beating anytime soon, and it should be him, Danny shouldn't be hurt like this, it should only be him..._

"Danny!" He woke up abruptly, sitting up the blanket falling off him, and his breath hung in the air in short, ragged bursts.

Nightmare. Just a nightmare.

It was dark and he was shivering and he was alone.

He lay back down, huddled under the blanket and _wished._


	40. Unseasonal Part 5

**A/N: Eighth piece of advent fic! Can I have an 'oooh'? **

**A/N2: This chapter is for ParisAmy, for translating the French for me. Much thanks!**

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 & 40) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

24th December 1978

Danny woke up early again after another series of nightmares left him on edge and uneasy. He couldn't remember the details, only the feelings. Loss and loneliness, vulnerability and fear.

He was awake from five and he got up and dug through his case until he found his history book and settled himself down at the table to write an essay. If he was going to be awake anyway he might as well use his time productively. It was due the week he got back, and he might not care so much about deadlines, but the teachers were losing patience with homework not being handed in, and he was well past the point of letting Rusty do both their homework.

No, he'd do something. Just that he didn't care if it wasn't his best work, and he leafed through the book moodily until it was well and truly morning, and noise started filtering through from outside.

He was listening for it and it was around eight that he heard the door of the room next door open, heard Mom's footsteps in the corridor. She stopped outside his door, just for a second. Then she kept walking. He honestly couldn't say if he was relieved or disappointed.

When she was angry with him, after the initial outpouring of rage and vitriol, she tended to ignore him. In fact, she tended to want him as far away as possible. Out of sight, out of mind, and in his more cynical moments he might question just how different that really was from the way she thought of him the rest of the time.

Still it suited him just fine. Not like he had any particular desire to see that look of contempt and disappointment again. If she wanted to ignore him for the rest of the holiday, that was okay with him.

Tomorrow was Christmas...

So _what _if tomorrow was Christmas? What did he expect? That she'd hug him and tell him she was proud of him, that he was a good son? That just wasn't gonna happen.

This whole vacation was a waste of time. All his thoughts of making an effort, of trying to be the kid she wanted, of trying to form some kind of _connection..._he must've been crazy. She wasn't interested. She didn't think he deserved it. She didn't think he was worth it.

(_She made him feel so small._)

Really, he'd be a hundred times better off if he just cut his losses. Accepted that he would never win her over.

In his head, he saw Rusty smile. If he could do that, he'd be a different person.

Still, for today, he'd forget all about Mom.

He couldn't wait to see Yvette.

Really, he wasn't sure just where this was going, but it seemed to be heading there fast. He'd never felt this way about a girl before.

Oh, he'd dated before, naturally. A few kisses at the movies, a little bit of fumbling around under the bleachers with Ruth, and everyone's clothes stayed on, and no one considered taking it further.

This...this felt like it might just be heading somewhere altogether different. And he didn't know whether to be excited or terrified, and he wanted to tell Rusty everything that had happened, wanted to know what Rusty thought.

_Do you think you're too dependent on Robert? _Mom's voice echoed in his mind, and he scowled and shoved the thought away.

Wasn't true. It wasn't dependency, it was need. Trust. Above all else, it was mutual. He trusted Rusty like he trusted himself, and when he needed answers, when something _mattered, _he wanted to see it through Rusty's eyes.

Only that wasn't a possibility right now. Right now he was on his own.

He sighed and turned back to his homework and scribbled nonsense about the industrial revolution until it was time to leave.

The cafe was nearly empty and he nodded to the waitress and ordered an espresso while he waited and sat down and tried to concentrate on being awake.

She walked in a few moments later, wearing a red dress under his leather jacket.

"It looks good on me, n'est-ce pas?" she asked, after they were done kissing their hellos.

"It does," he said honestly. "I'm gonna need it back though."

"Really?" She pouted slightly, fingering the collar lightly. "But it is so nice."

"Sorry," he said, and he was, but Rusty had given him the jacket and he couldn't just give it away. Not even to her.

She grinned. "Ah, well. Perhaps you can buy me something pretty to replace it, yes?"

"Perhaps I will," he smiled dazzlingly. "For a start, I'm going to buy you brunch."

"Ooh," she said obligingly, her smile wide.

Grandly he ordered a selection of coffee, pastries and fruit, and they stayed in the cafe for the rest of the morning, talking and giggling, and kissing like lovesick teenagers.

"So what would you like to do today?" Danny asked presently, looking at her over his third cup of coffee.

"I do not know," she said with an elegant shrug. "Ma mere wished me to work this afternoon."

"Oh," he said disappointed.

She looked at him fixedly. "I told her I would not. I told her I had other plans."

"Oh," he said again, his tone entirely different, and the smile burst out of him.

"She was not pleased," Yvette added, scowling slightly. "She asks too much of me. This is my time off and I wish to enjoy it. She called me selfish and ungrateful. Do you think that I am?"

She looked quietly worried, and with the memory of all the times that he'd heard Mom throw those same words at him playing through his mind, he gave the same answer that Rusty gave him each time he silently asked the same question. "No, of course you're not," he said firmly.

"Good," she said softly. "She keeps telling me that now that Dad has gone I have to be more responsible. But I want to have _fun._"

"Just because you're having fun doesn't mean you're not being responsible in other ways," Danny pointed out. "Your Mom should remember that."

After all _they _had plenty of fun, but as far as Danny could see, they had responsibilities that no one else ever seemed to notice.

"Exactly," Yvette nodded triumphantly. "I do my school work. I go to class on time...usually, anyway. And I do work for her all the time and I never complain. Why won't she see that?"

"Adults aren't very good at noticing things," Danny told her truthfully.

She sighed and reached a hand out across the table. "I am sorry. You did not come here to listen to me complaining."

"I don't mind at all," he said softly. "I just want to spend time with you."

"Me as well," she said, squeezing his hand gently, and for a few more moments they sat in comfortable, wonderful silence. "Let's go into town," Yvette suggested suddenly. "I'll show you around some more. We can go to the shops and you can buy me something pretty."

"Of course," he grinned gallantly. "I'll just take care of the bill first."

She shot him a look that was bright with mischief. "Or we could just sneak out," she suggested.

He blinked, genuinely surprised. "I've got the cash," he told her.

"That isn't the point though," she answered impishly. "Come on. You might be a bad boy but I've never done anything like this before." The intrigue and the excitement rippled through her voice and Danny felt the heat suffusing through him.

Still he hesitated. "Thing is," he said. "When you stiff places on the bill, often they take it out of the waitresses pay check. And that's not right."

She frowned. "That bothers you?"

"Yes," he said simply. "It's not fair. They need money too."

The smile was soft and thoughtful. "You are a strange boy, Danny. I have never met anyone like you before."

He shrugged. "Just makes sense, that's all," he said signalling for the bill.

When it came he paid it and left a generous tip and Yvette's eyes were on him the whole time.

"But stealing does not bother you," she said slowly as they walked away. "What is the difference?"

"There's a difference," he said at once. "If we're picking pockets we only go after people who look like they can afford it. People who won't be carrying their whole life savings, or all the money they have for rent or food that month."

She stole a glance sideways at him. "People really struggle like that in your country?"

He sighed and thought of Rusty, living hand to mouth. "I think people live like that everywhere."

They headed into town and she showed him around. A whole other kind of sight seeing, and they took in the shops, the little street market, the Christmas lights and the nativity scene in the square, and she was holding his hand all the time. It felt wonderful. It felt like the last few days – all Mom's poison – was just fading away.

When they finally got back to the hotel, it was late afternoon and they hid out in Danny's room, Yvette not wanting to risk her mother spotting her. He lay on the bed and watched as she tried on the dove grey hat he'd bought her.

"C'est tres jolie!" she exclaimed happily. "Thank you, Danny."

"It looks good on you," he said warmly, carefully laying the tissue wrapped package to the side. A silk scarf, a narcissus neatly painted on the corner. He'd seen it and buying it had been an easy impulse. Mom liked narcissi. An extra Christmas present, and he thought she'd like it. Perhaps it would make a difference. Maybe.

He set it down on the nightstand and stood, walking over to the mirror, and Yvette's reflected eyes smiled warmly at him.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, lightly kissing her neck. "I've had the best day today. Thank you."

"Oh, Danny." She reached up and ran her hand through his hair, watching him in the mirror all the time, and his kisses grew more urgent. The room was growing warmer and he unconsciously moved his hand, brushing lightly over her breast. It felt amazing, but uncertain, he immediately pulled back.

She laughed softly and grabbed his wrist quickly, putting his hand firmly back on her body. "I want to," she breathed, turning to face him, her lips inches from his. "I want _you._"

Just her voice was heady and inviting. He'd never felt like this before. He leaned forwards and kissed her.

Somehow, kissing didn't stop, and an uncertain time later, they were lying on the bed together, their mouths pressed together, and Danny had lost his shirt at some point, and Yvette's dress was pulled up around her thighs, her legs soft beneath Danny's hand. Right now, there might as well not be a world outside this bed. Right now, nothing else mattered.

It wasn't until Yvette's hands were on his pants, urgently struggling to remove them, that some sense of nagging reality intruded.

"Wait," he said. "Do you have anything we could use?"

She stared at him blankly for a second, before leaning forwards and planting kisses across his chest, her mouth everywhere at once, while her hands still fumbled at his waist.

It was difficult to think. More difficult still to move away. "Condoms," he emphasised, knowing it was the same in French as English. It had been one of the words that Doug Fletcher had looked up the first day of class and told everyone.

"No," she said, her voice husky with desire. "It does not matter."

Danny disagreed. Even though right now he wanted nothing more than to hold and touch and kiss and take this feeling as far as it could possibly go, Danny disagreed. With an effort, he sat up, away from her. "We need to get condoms."

She pouted. "It is my concern, Danny. I am the one who can get pregnant."

He grinned. "Takes two for that."

Her fingers danced across his shoulders. "Always so responsible. Can't you just - "

" - you said your Mom had you working as a maid," he interrupted. "So you've been in the other rooms." He met her eyes and smiled. "Someone must have condoms, right?"

For a second she looked shocked, then the smile dawned wickedly. "Yes...yes..." She frowned, evidently thinking. "I saw some in Monsieur Brownlie's chambre."

Danny's nose wrinkled. "No," he said decidedly. "Not while he and Mom are..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

She stared at him blankly for a moment before she seemed to catch on. "Dieu, vraiment? Tu crois qu'ils sont dorment ensemble? "

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. He'd thought that was obvious.

"But...but you said ton pere only died last month!" she exclaimed, sounding horrified at the thought.

"Yeah," he said again evenly.

Tentatively, she reached out and grasped his hand. "I am sorry, Danny."

He flashed her another smile. "You see condoms in any other room?"

The room furthest from the elevator on the floor above. They ran up the stairs together, and stood giggling in front of the door.

"What if someone is inside?" Yvette hissed.

He shrugged and knocked loudly on the door.

She grabbed his arm tightly. "Danny!"

"If anyone answers, I'll say we got the wrong room," he explained, and she giggled again.

"I have never done anything like this before," she murmured, excitement and nervousness warring in her voice.

"There's a first time for everything," he rejoined breathlessly. Because there were things he'd never done before. But it seemed as though that was about to change, and he was far more terrified of _that _than of breaking into any hotel room.

He still couldn't exactly believe that this was really happening. It was like some fantastic dream that he wasn't waking up from. And he didn't know exactly what he should be doing, didn't know exactly what _to _do. Oh, he knew the basics, Dad had sat him down three years back and awkwardly blundered through the mechanics of it all, while Mom stood behind him and glared and made snide comments, and then later there had been talks in school, but none of that had covered what he should be saying, doing, _feeling. _

He couldn't tell her that he was a virgin. He just _couldn't. _

All he had right now were instincts and anticipation and he longed to check both with Rusty.

But Yvette was beautiful and fun and she was here, standing beside him, holding his hand tightly, and it seemed like she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.

They waited, staring at the door for a long, long moment but no one answered.

"Okay," he said at last. "Keep a look out."

She nodded, and he crouched in front of the door, working on the lock. Didn't take long.

"Our locks are that easy to undo?" she asked, as the door swung open. "Perhaps I should mention this to ma mere."

He grinned and walked inside, Yvette a half step behind him, and they both jumped when the door swung shut behind him.

"Okay," he said, looking around quickly. "Where were they?"

"On the little table," she said, pointing to the nightstand. Sure enough, there was a carton of condoms there.

He picked it up and looked at her quizzically. "How many, ah..." He trailed off and told himself fiercely that he _wasn't _blushing.

Yvette giggled. "Perhaps we had better just take them all?" she suggested. "Just in case."

"Just in case," he agreed and he took a step towards her, made to kiss her lightly, but she grabbed him and pulled him in close, and there was so much heat between them.

"We should go back to your room," she said after a few moments, breathing hard.

"Let's go," he agreed, trailing kisses down the side of her neck, and she moaned. His breath caught in his throat. Suddenly getting back to his room, seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Later, and they lay together in bed, her head resting on his chest. He was tingling all over. He'd never felt anything like this before. The way she made him feel...he didn't want this to ever end.

She glanced over at the clock and sighed. "I need to go soon," she said sleepily. "Ma mere will be expecting me to have dinner with her."

He stroked his hand through her hair. "I wish you could stay."

"Me also," she said, nuzzling in closer to him. "I would far rather be with you than with my mother, listening to her complain about me. She is terrible to me, you know. Ever since father has been gone, nothing I do is good enough."

"I'm sorry," he said, kissing her gently. "Your mother doesn't deserve you."

"She has me working day and night," Yvette told him. "She does not like it when I go out with my friends. She will not buy me the clothes I want." She looked deep into his eyes. "She is very cruel. She even sold the jewellery my father gave me."

"She what?" Danny demanded, a deep sense of outrage rushing through him. That didn't sit right with him at all. He had precious little to remind him of Dad, and even _Mom _surely wouldn't do that. "That's not right. Not right at all."

"She did!" Yvette insisted. "She said I should forget about him and sold it all. She said I did not deserve such pretty things. I told you. She is very cruel to me."

"Who did she sell it to?" he asked, his mind racing.

She hesitated briefly, looking at him strangely. "Why do you ask?"

"Maybe I can get it back," he said with a determined smile.

Her eyes shone. "You would do that, Danny? For me?"

"Of course!" he said fiercely. Right now, he'd do _anything _for her.

"Oh." She pressed her face against his arm. "It was the pawnbroker down the road," she said. "He has it still. And you will break in and steal my jewellery back?"

He reached down and placed his fingers on her chin, gently bringing her up to look at him. "I'd do far more than that," he vowed tenderly.

"My hero," she said softly, and she kissed him passionately, before starting to trail further fervent kisses down his chest, moving purposefully lower. "Perhaps ma mere will wait a little longer..."

"I understand how it feels, you know," he said later, as she was getting dressed. "My Mom doesn't want me. She's told me so. I'm not good enough for her. And when she notices me at all, she picks at every little thing that I do until I feel...small. And worthless."

"Your mother does not deserve you," she said with a sigh.

"Maybe," he said, leaning back and regarding the ceiling. "Sometimes, though, I think that I could try harder to please her. That's what I was supposed to be doing now. I wanted to try and be what she wants me to be. Only then she started in on Rusty, and I guess I'm never gonna be able to let that go."

"Rusty?" she asked, puzzled. "Your friend?"

"Yeah," he said heavily. He sat up and looked at her. "Rusty's father beats him. And my Mom knows. And she doesn't care." He'd never said it out loud like that before. Never wanted to admit that it wasn't just that Mom didn't _act _she didn't _care. _"I suppose it doesn't matter what else she does, or how hard I try to please her. Truth be told, I'm never going to be able to forgive her for that anyway."

"What would you have her do?" Yvette asked.

He shrugged. "Something. Anything. Not just watch and send Rusty back to that bastard like nothing's wrong. Anyone else did that, I'd hate them." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes, I wish I hate her. Sometimes I think I do."

"I am sorry, Danny," Yvette said after a fraction of a second, and she crossed the room and wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he clung to her, taking the comfort she offered. "I wish that there was something I could do for you."

"You already have," he told her softly. He sighed and pulled back, running his hand through his hair. "You'd best get going."

She glanced at the clock again with a grimace. "Yes," she agreed. "I will not be able to see you tomorrow, but perhaps the next day?"

He smiled. Christmas with Mom would be much easier, knowing that Yvette was waiting on the other side. "The next day," he agreed. "I can't wait."

"Au revoir," she said, kissing him lightly on the lips.

The room felt much colder after she was gone.

He wondered what Rusty was doing right now. Hoped that he was managing to stay out of his Dad's reach. Hoped that he was having as good a Christmas as he could.

And he wondered where Mom was. She hadn't said where she was going. Could be anywhere. Though she had to come back tonight, surely. And he'd guess she'd want to see him. Right now, he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to see her.

Feeling restless, he headed outside. Might as well go for a walk. Get some fresh air. Find any pawnbrokers that might be in the neighbourhood.

It was maybe a mile or so from the hotel. A small shop, looked relatively prosperous, and the steel shutters on the windows were heavy and intimidating. But he could see the edge of a skylight on the roof, and by the looks of things it would lead into an attic, and that tree there hung over it. All in all, it looked _possible. _If he was quick, and clever and daring, and he was all those things.

There was a sign in the window that said it would be reopening on the 26th. He could go in and scope the place out then.

Felt good to have a purpose. Felt righteous, and as he headed back to the hotel, he was smiling.

For the rest of the evening, he sat at the table in his room and did his best to sketch plans for the pawnbrokers, trying to figure out all the variables, trying to imagine what it would be like inside. Now he wished that Rusty was here for a whole other reason. This sort of plan would be so much easier if it was the two of them. Not to mention that this wasn't like breaking into the school. If he got caught doing this, no amount of explaining would get him out of trouble.

He thought of Yvette. It was worth it.

Eventually he dozed off still sitting at the table.

Christmas arrived and he didn't even know it.

* * *

Reluctantly, he got out of bed at first light. Way he figured it the power company would open about nine, and the sooner they got the money the sooner they'd be able to get the power back on. Didn't make it easy. The cold gnawed right through him and he moved stiffly, his teeth chattering, his bones cracking.

First things first and he sat on the living room floor, the blanket draped over his shoulders and counted out the money. One hundred and seventy nine dollars and eighty three cents. More than half. That _had _to be enough, and cheered he stuffed it into a paper bag before he wandered into the kitchen and got himself a glass of water and a tin of cold beans. Tonight he'd be able to fix himself something hot. The heating would be on, he'd get hot food, hot chocolate and a hot shower.

He shivered violently. God, he couldn't wait.

Soon as he was finished his meal, he headed out, spending some of the change to catch the bus across town. Even if time wasn't an issue, he was too tired to think about walking and his back ached from sleeping on the lumpy sofa. He sat with his head pressed against the window and shivered, trying not to fall asleep.

There was a queue when he got to the power company and he waited patiently, revelling in the warmth. Enough that he actually took Brady's gloves off and rubbed his hands together, watching fascinated as his fingers changed from white to bright red.

"Next!" a voice called impatiently, and he looked up and groaned to see Mr Lewis waiting for him. Well, he supposed the man did know the situation already. Just he'd kind of been hoping to talk to someone else.

He walked up to the counter, broadcasting charm and confidence and innocence, and all that was only slightly dented when he saw Mr Lewis wrinkle his nose on recognising him. "Can I help you?"

"Hi," Rusty started brightly. "I'm here to pay some of what I...what my Dad owes. Got the money and the bill here." He passed over the paper bag.

Mr Lewis shook it out over the counter with a sneer. Bills and coins spilled everywhere, and Rusty had to quickly stoop to retrieve a couple of nickels that rolled straight off the edge.

"What did you do? Look down the back of the sofa?" Mr Lewis asked, laughing at his own sofa.

"Something like that," Rusty said evenly, and he watched patiently as Mr Lewis counted out the money, retrieved the file, scribbled a couple of notes, and then painstakingly wrote out a receipt and stamped it.

"There you go," he said, holding out the receipt.

Rusty took it and waited expectantly. "When will the power go on?" he asked after an awkward couple of moments silence.

Mr Lewis leaned over the counter and spoke loudly and slowly, like he thought Rusty was hard-of-thinking. "When you pay the bill."

He stilled. "But you said," he protested at once, panic and disbelief racing through him. "You agreed if I paid half, then you'd reconnect us."

"No I didn't," Mr Lewis told him smugly. "I said we would look on it favourably. He gathered the money together and smirked down at Rusty. "We do look on it favourably."

With a dull shudder of realisation, Rusty played the conversation back through in his head. Yeah. Mr Lewis hadn't said. He'd assumed. He'd been _led _to assume like a naïve little idiot. Forcing all thoughts of fairness away, he regarded Mr Lewis steadily. "So you're not going to do anything for me until the bill is completely paid?"

"Yes," Mr Lewis said, starting to sound bored. "So run along and tell your father to start selling the silverware or whatever."

Right. Right. He'd never be able to raise the rest of the money today. "When do you open after Christmas?" he asked, resignation in his voice.

In response, Mr Lewis jabbed a thumb towards a sign on the opposite wall. '_This office will be closed from noon on the 24__th__ till 10am on the 27__th'_

The twenty seventh. That was three more days. God. He swallowed hard and looked back at Mr Lewis. Obvious that arguing would be useless. Seemed like he'd never had any intention of turning the power back on. "Can I get some of my money back then?" he asked softly. "Just ten dollars, so I can get hot food until I can get this bill paid."

Mr Lewis closed the folder with a snap. "That's not the way it works. Once you've given us the money it becomes our property. It's all perfectly legitimate. You have a receipt. So no. You may not have _our money_ back. Now scram. I have real customers waiting."

Rusty nodded numbly and walked away a few steps. He was trembling and it wasn't the cold any more. All that work. All that effort. All for nothing.

He ducked behind a large rubber plant and crouched on the floor out of general view, the heels of his hands pressed into his face.

No heat. No money. No way of doing anything about it for the next few days at least. More than that, really because tomorrow was Christmas day and he had a feeling there wasn't going to be too many opportunities to pick pockets. Weren't going to be too many places open either. He'd be stuck home.

His fists were clenched tight. If he'd known three days ago that he wasn't going to be able to get the power back on before Christmas, maybe he could have done something. Found a bigger score to go after, maybe. If nothing else he wouldn't have bothered giving all his money to Mr Lewis. He'd have spent it on warmer clothes instead. More blankets. Hot food. Maybe a camping stove or something. Things that would really made a difference.

Someone came down the stairs to his left and he flattened himself against the wall quickly, afraid of being seen.

As he watched, a woman holding a lockbox walked behind the counter up to Mr Lewis. "Edgar, weren't you going to take the petty cash to the bank today?"

"Didn't have time," Mr Lewis said irritably, after looking round to make sure no one was in earshot. "It'll be fine over the holidays. Just lock it in my filing cabinet as usual."

"How much is in there, Sheena?" the woman behind the next counter piped up.

"Over two hundred dollars," Sheena said, her voice hushed.

The other woman laughed. "We should take it to the Christmas party tonight. We could get a lot of cocktails with that."

"That money is my personal responsibility," Mr Lewis said severely. "It's going to stay safely upstairs until I can take it to the bank next week."

"Of course, Edgar," the woman agreed, humour fading. "I was only joking."

Mr Lewis glared at both of them. "Sheena, take that back upstairs, then come back down here and give us a hand clearing the queue."

It wasn't really a conscious decision. It wasn't even a coherent plan, he just stepped out into the doorway and waited; and when Sheena came back downstairs empty-handed, he stood in her way, swaying slightly. "'scuse me, ma'am," he said softly. "I don't feel well. I'm sorry, but do you have a restroom?" He looked up at her imploringly, his hand pressed against his mouth like he was fighting not to throw up.

"Oh, dear," she said sympathetically. "Come on upstairs quickly."

He followed her up the stairs into the staff area, and she showed him the restroom and he stepped inside and closed the door, making a couple of realistic retching noises. All the time, his mind was racing.

Three doors, not including this one. Three offices, if he had to guess, and one of them had Mr Lewis' name on. That's where the money would be. And he'd seen the window at the end of the corridor, and it was the same kind they had in school. Easy enough to open from the outside, if you slid something flat along where the latch would be.

He splashed some cold water on his face. Right. He could do this. He needed the money to pay them and they had money just sitting there. Was an elegant solution.

He made sure to stumble as he left the bathroom. As he'd expected, Sheena was waiting for him. Not like he'd thought he'd be left alone up here. All he'd wanted was a good look around.

"Are you feeling any better?" she asked him.

He nodded, wiping at his mouth. ""A little, ma'am. I'm really sorry. Thank you, ma'am."

"It's no trouble," she said, and then she reached out towards him.

He wasn't expecting it, and he barely managed to suppress the flinch. "Ma'am?" he said uncertainly, as she laid her hand flat against his forehead.

"Gracious, child, you're freezing," she told him, like it was news. "Run home quick and get warmed up."

Yeah. Originally that had been his plan. But her employer had sort of scrapped that idea. "I will, ma'am," he promised as he walked towards the stairs, taking another long look around, memorising everything he could see.

He managed to get outside without incident, and for the next half hour he walked around the building, taking a note of all the entrances, the windows, anything that he could see. That had to be the window to Mr Lewis' office there, overlooking the flat roof of the next building. Didn't look like there was any way in there, but one of the other office windows had a sturdy looking drainpipe right next to it, and that looked eminently climbable. Least it would if it wasn't for the snow. He guessed he should be hoping for a thaw.

That was enough looking around. He lingered too long, someone might notice him. Remember him. And that was to be avoided at all costs.

No, he'd leave for now. Head somewhere warm for a few hours while he could. Then he'd go home and plan a break in.

The department store was even more crowded than it had been yesterday, although on the plus side there was no sign of that store detective. Though, really, in this crowd it would be easy to miss anyone. He gritted his teeth as people shoved past him, pushed against him. Too many people. He hated crowds like this. There was no way to tell where the threat was coming from, and all the people touching him...it left him dangerously close to panic.

Danny was always good at steering him away from the crush of people. Mind you, when Danny was there it was never so bad anyway. He knew there was someone watching his back and that made all the difference in the world.

Danny. God, he wished Danny was here now. This whole mess would be a thousand times easier to deal with if he didn't feel so _alone._

He closed his eyes, dizzy for a moment and he remembered the scorn in Mr Lewis' eyes, the moment when everything he'd worked for just slipped away, and suddenly he really needed some air.

Finding his way to a fire escape, he stumbled outside and the cold air hit him and the moment of panic faded.

He sank down onto the cold stone step, thankful it had been cleared of snow.

What was he going to do? He didn't even know...

He sighed and lit a cigarette, and this at least made him feel better.

The door behind him lurched open and he turned his head quickly to be confronted by Santa Claus, a packet of smokes in his hand.

For a moment they stared at each other, frozen, until Rusty grinned. "I won't say anything if you don't."

Santa looked at him for a moment, then shrugged and made himself comfortable on the step above Rusty. He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and patted at his suit, drawing out a matchbook and shaking it mournfully. "Uh, you got a light, kid?"

"Sure," Rusty said, passing up some matches and surreptitiously looking round, making sure that he knew which way to run if he had to.

"Thanks," Santa said, briefly pulling his fake beard away and lighting the cigarette with a sigh of relief. He glanced down at Rusty ironically. "So what do you want for Christmas, little boy?"

"Three hundred and thirty six dollars and eighteen cents," Rusty said wearily.

"Right," Santa said, sounding resigned. "Wouldn't we all?"

For a moment or so they sat smoking in silence.

"Tell me if you hear anyone coming, okay kid?" Santa said presently.

"Not supposed to be smoking, huh?" he asked with a quirk of his lips.

"Right," Santa sighed. "Boss says if he catches me once more I'm out. No bonus, no paycheck. But I swear, I can't deal with another minute without a smoke."

"They'd sack Santa on Christmas Eve?" Rusty said, shaking his head. "Man, that's low."

Santa snorted. "Yeah. Only time to do it really."

Rusty grinned. "Can you imagine the look on the kids faces if they did it in front of everyone?"

"Believe me, it wouldn't make some of them any more miserable," Santa told him. "And the _parents..._ If I didn't need the cash I'd be out of here so fast." He shook his head. "But they're cutting back hours at the factory. Gotta find extra cash where you can, you know? That's the sacrifice to make the Christmas magic happen. You be grateful to your parents, you hear me, kid?"

Grateful. The word fell right through him. He looked down at his cigarette and told himself the shiver was just the cold.

"My kids don't know they're born," Santa went on moodily. "Here I am, working fourteen hour shifts every night and spending my days playing Santa for a bunch of spoilt brats, just so I can get their presents out of lay away, and they're asking for more stuff. Some Sunday school party tonight. Costs five dollars a head. Five dollars! Do I look like I'm made of money? And tomorrow they're gonna be up at the crack of dawn, fighting over every little thing, and my wife will be cooking all day. So I'll have to keep the kids distracted and out from under her feet, and not killing each other. And Marco wanted a drum kit, so we're all gonna be deaf by lunchtime. _If _I get the damned money to get the presents, that is. God only knows what it'll be like if I don't. I tell you, sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."

Rusty looked at him. "Do you?"

"Yeah," he said , sounding tired and frustrated. "Sometimes."

He nodded slowly. "Do you love your kids?" he asked abruptly, absently lighting another cigarette.

Santa blinked. "What? Yes, of course."

He nodded again. "Your wife a good cook? What's she making?"

"Ham," Santa said, bewildered. "And the trimmings. Just the usual Christmas stuff. And yeah, she's the best. What are you - "

" - so your kids are going to be safe at home this Christmas, in a warm house with people who care about them, good food to eat, and _presents? _You love them? They got it good." For some reason, he was almost angry.

Santa stared at him. "What _did _you want that three hundred dollars for," he asked quietly.

"Power bill," Rusty answered shortly, and somehow, with Santa looking at him like that, he was compelled to keep talking. "We got cut off a few days ago. They won't reconnect us until I've paid. And now they're shut till after Christmas."

"Until _you've _paid?" Santa demanded. "Jesus, kid, how old are you?"

"Twelve," Rusty answered, blinking. "You know, angry Santa looks kind of strange."

Didn't seem like Santa was listening. "Twelve? Where the fuck are your parents at?"

He shrugged. "Mom took off a few years back. Dad's out of town at the moment. Guess he won't be back till next week at least." There was something strangely liberating about saying this stuff out loud to a stranger. Someone who didn't know and wouldn't care.

"He just left you alone?" Santa asked aghast. "Over Christmas? With no heat and no money? You need to tell someone, kid."

Rusty frowned. "Tell someone? 's not that bad." If Dad was here, after all it could be so much worse.

If anything that only made Santa look more upset.

This whole conversation had got off track. He sighed. "Look, I'm just saying be glad your kids are safe and warm, that's all. There's a lot worse than to have all that family Christmas shit going on, you know?" A Christmas tree, and people smiling, and a hot dinner...with an effort, he could just about picture it.

"Come home with me," Santa said suddenly.

_What? _Rusty stared.

"I mean, it kid," he went on earnestly. "I don't have much, but you'd be warm and safe at least. Trish always makes too much food anyway. You could sleep on the sofa, at least till after Christmas, then we'll see what can be done."

The picture burned just a little bit clearer in his mind, before he shoved it away. _After Christmas we'll see._ Yeah. He knew what that meant. Back to Miss Stevens', or somewhere like it. Locked up and away from Danny. And Danny _needed _him. And still, the temptation to go with Santa. To stay for a little while, and leave before he wore out his welcome...yeah. He forced himself to forget it. No one was gonna just take him in out of the goodness of their hearts, not even for a few days. He knew better than to expect that sort of kindness.

He grinned. "Uh huh. And what would your wife say when you brought some random kid home the day before Christmas?"

Santa hesitated. "She'd be fine with it," he said, sounding less than convinced.

"Right. Another mouth to feed and a piece of worthless white trash to corrupt your kids." He grinned some more. "I'm gonna say no. And don't pretend you're not relieved." He stood up, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stubbing it out with a twist of his heel. "Nice talking to you, Santa."

"Wait!" Santa said desperately, reaching up as though to grab his arm, and instinctively he jumped backwards, stumbling down the steps, and he stood watching Santa warily. "Take this at least," Santa said, fumbling in his suit and coming up with a couple of crumpled bills.

Rusty smiled and shook his head. "Keep it, man. Go get your kids' presents. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Santa said, in a low voice, as he walked away.

Didn't seem a good idea to go back in the department store. All too possible that Santa would get it into his head to go looking for him out of some misguided charitable impulse, or worse he might go to store security or the cops or something. Just what he didn't need; to spend Christmas dodging questions. Though he supposed he didn't have too many bruises at the moments. Maybe they wouldn't feel like they needed to make a fuss _anyway._ All the same though, there was no way he was taking the risk if he could help it. Better to head round to the other department store, the one they usually went to and work there.

It was every bit as loud and crowded and unpleasant here, but he gritted his teeth and got on with it, finding the least busy nooks and crannies, trying to restrict himself to going after pocket change. There wasn't such a burning need for cash now, after all, and once he'd scraped together ten dollars or so, he called it a day, and went and sat in the little cafeteria upstairs, moving from table to table to escape notice, and making a kids mug of hot chocolate and a Boston Cream doughnut last for _hours._

Eventually though, the announcement came that the store was closing and he sighed and made his way downstairs, gloomily walking into the cold. Though it did look like more of the snow had melted away, and that was something. Should make whatever he was planning easier.

It was still cold though, and his breath hung in the air in front of him as he trudged home. He stopped off at the shop on the corner on the way home. Stocked up on chocolate, potato chips, a large bottle of coca cola, more candles, a loaf of bread and a jar of jelly. Christmas dinner. He'd eat what he wanted.

He dropped his shopping on the counter and stood as the man rang it all up, staring vacantly at the pile of candy bars. Just like Christmas used to be. When Mom would take him down here and pick out a whole lot of chocolate and stuff. He remembered her smiling at him one time. Smiling and saying happy Christmas, and he remembered thinking that this must be how regular kids feel all the time.

"That everything?" the guy asked.

He considered. "Pack of Marlboro Lights, too."

The guy looked at him doubtfully.

Rusty rolled his eyes. "For Dad," he lied, and he kept his face blank and uninterested as they guy looked at him a moment longer, then picked the cigarettes off the shelf and added them to the pile. "Thanks," Rusty said, handing money over. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn't. Worked more here because the guy knew Dad and wouldn't want to cross him. Course, the downside to _that _was, if he mentioned to Dad then Dad would know Rusty had been lying. And that would be right about the time he'd reduce Rusty to hamburger meat.

Food and cigarettes. That should see him through the next couple of days. And he still had just about enough money left to get something hot to eat, if he wasn't too fussy. He went into Dino's pizza place down the road. What they served was greasy and not exactly fresh, and he didn't even want to know what went in the sauce, but it was cheap and it was hot and there'd been plenty times when that was all that mattered. He was the only customer and they cleaned around him, barely glancing at him in fact, as he sat at the counter and ate his pizza as slowly as possible, trying to delay going home.

Eventually though he kind of ran out of other options. The apartment was dark and cold and unwelcoming. Not that there was really anything unusual there, he supposed. With a sigh, he picked up a candle and lit it and wandered through the apartment. Was warmest in the kitchen, he thought. And that made sense because there was no windows in here, and only one door. Kinda funny that the exact reasons he'd normally try to avoid the room were what was making it so attractive.

He hesitated for a long moment, staring at the door, remembering the last time he'd been caught here. The night Danny had...the night Danny _hadn't. _There was still a dot of blood on the door frame.

Dad wasn't here, he reminded himself fiercely. Dad wasn't going to be here. He'd be safe, and he could keep warm best in here. So he might as well get on with it.

He started by bringing through the rest of the candles and setting them up on the table and the kitchen counter. Enough light to see by. Next he gathered together the blanket and pillows, all the clothes he had and the cushions from the sofa, and he dumped them all in the corner of the kitchen, wedged between two cupboards. There. He stayed in the middle of that, it should keep him warmer. Now he just needed to fetch pencil and paper a couple of books, his tapes and tape player, and stuff some of the clothes under the door to keep the draught out...and that was it. Apart from trips to the bathroom, he wouldn't have to leave the room until after Christmas.

With a grin, he burrowed down into the pile and curled up contentedly. Huh. This was more comfortable than his bed. And if he didn't move around too much, he was sure he'd soon warm up.

Now all he needed to do was work on the more long term solution. The petty cash in the office. He pulled the paper towards himself and started to think. Not Christmas day. Wouldn't be many people out; he'd be too conspicuous. The 26th though. In the middle of the night. Oh, that was workable. Now he just needed to figure out how.

After a moment or two he stuck some music on the tape player, and opened a bag of Reeses pieces.

Wasn't just candy that Mom had got him. There had been that jigsaw, when he was four. Few days before Christmas, and he'd been sitting in the corner, playing with Reindeera and keeping a wary eye on Dad, who'd been standing in the kitchen, arguing with Lance, while Mom lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, the shoe lace still tight around her arm. Eventually Lance had sworn grumpily and thrust a handful of money at Dad, and Dad had grunted and hauled Mom off the sofa and thrust her towards the bedroom, Lance following her. The door closed behind both of them and Rusty remembered how much the sound had _hurt. _

"What are you looking at, you little shit?" Dad snarled, and Rusty had looked away quickly. Couple of minutes later, Lance had ran out the room, pulling his pants up as he sprinted towards the front door. Dad had stared after him for a long moment before he went into the bedroom to see. "Shit," he'd said, and Rusty remembered the disgust in his voice. A moment later, he'd come stumbling out of the room, carrying Mom, and she was shaking violently, and her face was chalk white, her mouth covered with pink-tinged foam and defying the habits of a lifetime, Rusty had ran towards them, reaching out to touch Mom's hand, dangling limply, and he'd been begging her to open her eyes. Dad didn't even look at him. He just shoved past, knocking Rusty to the ground, before he kicked the door open and ran out. Rusty was left alone, desperately calling after Mom, not understanding what had happened, not knowing if he'd ever see her again.

It had been Christmas when they came back, and Mom had the battered jigsaw in her hands, and she gave it to him with a smile, and later she sat down and helped him with it. There'd been a couple of pieces missing. Now he guessed she must have stolen it from the hospital. But the point was, she'd stolen it for _him._

Of course, a week later she'd sold it along with his shoes and the sheet from his bed, in order to pay off Charlie. And she'd called him a filthy piece of trash, when he'd asked where his shoes were, before shoving him out the door and locking it behind him. He'd had to sit on the doorstep, using his sleeve to mop up the blood until Dad came home, and then he'd _really _got it.

Still. He wondered where Mom was spending Christmas. Wondered if she was safe. Sober. Wondered if she ever thought of him, if she even _remembered _him.

He still wished he could tell her how sorry he was for driving her away.

Eyes burning, he gazed down at the paper in front of him. Enough thinking about the past. He should focus on one fuck-up at a time.

The candles burned lower. David Bowie wondered if there was life on Mars. He was feeling warmer at least.

He should have been drawing the plans to the office. Should've been looking at exits and entrances,and obstacles and chances. Instead, somehow, he found himself sketching a Christmas tree, just like the one he'd seen at Brady's. Lights and decorations and candy canes, and presents underneath.

He stared at it for a second and then he stood up, and without thinking too much, he found a bit of tape and fixed it to the wall.

He stood back and regarded it for a long moment. By the candlelight, and if he squinted, it looked almost..._almost..._

With a sigh he ripped the tree off the wall, crumpled it up and hurled it in the trash.

In the distance bells rang out, proclaiming midnight.

It was Christmas day. And he didn't even care.


	41. Unseasonal Part 6

**A/N: 13th piece of Advent fic! We're really getting the hang of this. Also InSilva wishes me to tell you that it is all my fault. She's probably right...**

**A/N2: This is a very short chapter, for which I apologise, but after having gone back and forwards on it, I decided I wanted to stick to one day per chapter. It's a consistency thing, which is always unexpected from me.  
**

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 & 40) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

25th December 1978

Christmas morning and Danny didn't wake up until the knock at the door. He sat up quickly, grimacing at the painful crick in his neck, and carefully unpeeling the paper from his face. He stood up, stretching, and hurried to the door, and maybe he was a little surprised to see Mom standing there. He'd been trying not to think about it, but he had considered that Mom might just not spend Christmas with him. But here she was, and the smile burst out of him. "Happy Christmas, Mom!"

"Happy Christmas, Daniel," she said, a little stiffly, but that didn't matter. "I thought we could eat breakfast together. There is a buffet downstairs."

He nodded eagerly. "Sounds great. Just let me get ready first, please."

She pursed her lips irritably but nodded in agreement. "I'll be waiting next door," she told him.

When the door closed he let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding, and practically sprinted into the bathroom, getting showered and dressed quicker than he would have thought possible. She was here, she was talking to him, she hadn't said anything cutting or disparaging, and she wasn't yelling. Now all he had to do was get through the rest of the day without doing anything to fuck that up. With that in mind, he selected a crisp white shirt and a dark blue tie, as well as a pair of starched black slacks. Clothes that Mom would approve of. Clothes that made him look like a kid Mom might actually want to know. Clothes that didn't feel comfortable in the slightest, but that was a price he was willing to pay.

He gathered Mom's presents and card together before he went next door. God, he hoped she liked them.

It was a couple of moments between when he knocked and when Mom answered. He spent the time trying to polish his shoes on the back of his slacks. Eventually Mom opened the door and he smiled and held her presents out. "Happy Christmas, Mom," he said again.

She blinked. "Thank you, Daniel," she said, taking them gingerly.

"Sorry the scarf isn't wrapped," he said apologetically. He should've thought. "It was an impulse. I saw it and thought of you."

"Yes," she said, carefully examining it and leaving it to the side as she unwrapped the boxed set of her favourite perfume and the delicate little glass perfume bottle in the shape of a flower he'd got to go with it.

"Thank you, Daniel," she said again, studying the perfume bottle intently, a tiny smile on her face.

Danny relaxed slightly. He guessed she liked it.

"Let me just get your presents," Mom added, turning and reaching into her suitcase and pulling out two neatly wrapped presents and an envelope.

He opened the envelope first and smiled at the card and politely thanked Mom for the forty dollars, before opening the first present and lightly grinning to see the personal grooming kit. Hair gel, wax, couple of combs...oh, that would come in handy. Not the brands he normally got, but there was nothing wrong with experimentation, and he thanked Mom warmly.

Then he opened his other present and stared down at the book's glossy cover. 'Coping with grief'.

"Thank you, Mom," he said, and he _tried _to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, he really did, and it felt like some awful weight had settled in his chest, and the glossy picture of the tombstone on the cover was taunting him.

"Harold recommended it," Mom told him. ""His secretary's daughter found it very helpful, apparently."

Yeah. He was sure.

"Thanks," he said again. Felt like with one simple well-meaning gesture, Mom had managed to crush every scrap of peace and comfort that he'd managed to claw back over the last month.

He smiled up at her brightly . "Shall we go to breakfast?"

Christmas crawled by. He struggled to find a single thing to say to Mom, and he could easily see how bored she was. Made him feel guilty and ashamed. In spite of how much it hurt, she did have a point; there were so many other places she could go, so many other people she could be spending Christmas with if it wasn't for him.

(_Maybe she wasn't his first choice of who he'd want to spend Christmas with either._)

He wanted to be grateful though, and he hated the idea that he was boring her. Kind of hurt his pride, apart from anything else, and he tried to encourage her to talk, because she was always more animated when they were talking about _her. _But she rejected every attempt he made.

She was still angry with him for yesterday, he knew that. But he'd apologised, hadn't he? Did she want him to crawl?

It didn't get any better over dinner, and Danny amused himself by imagining Rusty's reaction to the variety and richness of the food on offer. It was a comforting sort of thought. Made him feel less lonely.

The day dragged on longer. By the time it started to get dark, Danny had give up on trying to get Mom to talk to him. Instead he was living inside his head, imagining what it would be like if Rusty was here. They'd order room service and stay up late watching television, and he would show Rusty the cake shops and the ice cream parlour he'd noticed yesterday. Eating cake with Rusty and talking about how best to hit the pawnshop, and he imagined telling Rusty about today, about Mom, and he could picture the fury in Rusty's eyes, the outrage on his behalf, and somehow it was much easier to admit that Rusty would have a problem with how Mom was treating him than to even consider whether it might actually be...well. Never mind.

In his head, the conversation played and he was exhausted by the time Mom announced she had a headache and dismissed him.

He lay in bed and remembered. This was an awful Christmas. Last year had been bad too. He'd been lonely and hurting and Uncle Harold had been kind to him only when he remembered Danny existed. The year before though...The year before had been as close to a proper family Christmas as they ever got. Mom and Dad had been angry, picking at each other, but it hadn't been too bad. They'd been together and Dad had smiled at him, had clapped him on the shoulder affectionately when he unwrapped the monogrammed briefcase Danny had got him, and he'd laughed at Danny's jokes over dinner, and he'd been _here _and he'd been _alive _and he'd...and he'd

Danny curled up as tight as possible and told himself it didn't matter if he cried as long as no one saw.

That had been a good Christmas. And it was gone and it was never coming back. _Dad _was never coming back.

He wished Rusty was here. Everything was always better if Rusty was here. And he hoped that Rusty was safe. Tried not to imagine the worst that could be happening. Tried not to consider the fact that with him here, Rusty had nowhere to run to. Tried not to think about punches and kicks and bruises and blood.

God, let Rusty be fine.

He closed his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Rus," he whispered into the darkness.

* * *

It was impossible to know what time it was when he woke up, chilled and drowsy but definitely less cold than he had been the past few days. Seemed he'd been right about the kitchen. Even better, he had no reason to think about getting up, he simply lay peacefully dozing for a few hours before he woke up enough to light the candles, drink some cola, eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and continue reading the Outsiders.

Had to admit, for a book he had to read for school, he was enjoying it. Nothing gold can stay, huh? Johnny might say that was about Ponyboy but far as Rusty was concerned, it was all about Danny. Nothing clearer. The very best life had to offer would always be taken away.

He finished the book a few hours later maybe, and spent the rest of the day lounging around, concentrating on keeping warm, listening to his French tape and working his way through the candy he'd bought. Not a bad way to spend Christmas, really. Though fuck, he couldn't wait for it to be over. Honestly, any other time of year was better in his opinion. Oh, he got the appeal, got what he was supposed to be taking away from the season (_family and a Christmas tree and presents and love and magic) _but what he had was nothing to do, no shops open and no Danny. And it was cold besides. Surely the summer was much better. Yeah. Days when he and Danny could spend whole days together, in the sun and the warm, and it felt like no one and nothing could stop them.

Still, this really wasn't too bad. He had food. Dad wasn't here...yes, he was cold (_and lonely_) but he'd had worse Christmases. Last year had been worse, even, but that hadn't been so much for Dad, who'd just smacked him in the face and sent him to his room, but for how worried he'd been about Danny. The year before though... Dad had been there then. And Rusty had been stupid enough to pick up a cold from somewhere, and he'd been coughing constantly and that had _really _irritated Dad. He'd been told what would happen if he didn't stop coughing, and he'd tried, he really had. He'd held his breath till he felt lightheaded and he'd snuck through to the kitchen and tried sipping at a cup of water, but it hadn't made any difference. He'd started coughing again, and it had felt like his throat was on fire and Dad had followed him through to the kitchen, forced him up against the counter and made him drink eight cups of water in a row. _"This should stop your noise you fucking bastard,_" he'd growled, and when he'd finally let go, Rusty had swayed dizzily and thrown up on his shoes.

Later, after Dad had left, he'd managed to drag himself through to the bathroom, and he'd more or less stayed there for the rest of Christmas. He could still remember the sound of joy and fun coming through the wall from next door. He'd lain there, in his own blood, listening to the sounds of the perfect family Christmas. People laughing. People singing. People _happy. _

Rusty curled up as tight as possible and told himself that he wasn't going to cry. That had been a bad Christmas. Compared to that, this was nothing. Just another day. Of course, that one had just been another day too...

He wished Danny was here. Everything was always better when Danny was here. The good stuff was a thousand times brighter and the bad stuff never hurt so bad. And he hoped Danny was _happy. _Hoped Danny was having a good time right now, was having some of that fun and laughter and joy. And he tried so hard not to think of the alternative. Tried not to think of silence and grief and loneliness.

Let Danny be fine.

He blew out the candles and closed his eyes. "Happy Christmas, Danny," he whispered into the darkness.


	42. Unseasonal Part 7

**A/N: Song mentioned in this chapter is Bruce Springsteen's 'The River'. Good song. I don't own it. **

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41 & 42) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

_26th December 1978_

Danny woke up the next morning to the sound of the door quietly opening. Barely awake, he half sat up in time to see Yvette vanishing beneath the covers at the foot of the bed. Seconds later, he felt her hands on the waistband of his pyjama pants, drawing them down.

_Oh. _This was one hell of a way to wake up.

"Good morning, Danny," she said presently, when she was lying in his arms.

He smiled and kissed her tenderly. "Good morning to you," he said.

"I thought I would surprise you," she went on wickedly. "Were you surprised?"

"Definitely," he agreed fervently.

"Ah, good," she said with a smile.

"Did you have a nice Christmas," he asked a second later.

"Oui," she nodded, her eyes lighting up. "Oh! You must see what ma mere has bought me!" She made as though to drag him out of bed.

Laughing, he protested. "Let me at least get dressed first."

She pulled back the covers and looked him up and down. "I think, perhaps, I like you better naked."

Tempting though that thought was, he showered and dressed quickly while she waited for him, and then he followed her downstairs and out into the courtyard.

"See," Yvette said proudly, pointing at a little red compact car. "It is very pretty, n'est c'est pas?"

He looked at it with appropriate admiration. Looked brand new. Certainly it was very shiny. "Your mother bought you this?"

"Yes," she agreed, contentment in her voice and he smiled. She was happy, and surely that meant that her relationship with her Mom must be at least a little better than he'd assumed. Though he supposed his Mom was prone to expensive gestures...but that was a handful of cash thrust at him, now and again. Nothing like this. "Would you like to take a drive with me?" she asked, breaking his train of thought. "We can go anywhere."

"Not just yet," he demurred. "I thought we might go and see the pawn shop down the street first."

"The pawn shop?" she asked, after a fraction of a seconds hesitation.

"Yes," he nodded determinedly. "If I'm going to get your jewellery back for you then I need to know what I'm looking for."

"My jewellery," she exclaimed. "Oh, Danny, you do not have to - "

" - but I want to," he said firmly. "You deserve to have your jewellery, Yvette. No one should have taken it away from you."

She looked at him for a long moment, as if considering, and then nodded twice in rapid succession. "Yes," she said simply, holding his hand tight. "Thank you, Danny."

"I haven't done anything yet," he smiled. "Come on."

The pawn shop was open when they arrived and they stood outside a moment, Danny talking in a low voice. "Alright, the important thing is not to draw any suspicion. Look at the jewellery as if you're browsing, but don't look right at your stuff. Find it, memorise exactly where it is, and then go on looking at other things. Most of all, try to look bored. I'll keep the shopkeeper distracted. Okay?"

She nodded, looking a little overwhelmed. He guessed she'd never done anything like this before. If it came to it, he'd never done anything quite like this before. Certainly not without Rusty. "Hey," he said softly. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."

She nodded again intently, and they walked inside.

Playing the part of the arrogant American tourist, Danny had the shopkeeper show him the guitars hanging on the wall. He couldn't play them, but that hardly mattered. He knew how to stand, how to strum as if he was lost in some fantasy of fame and fortune, and it was easy enough to be dismissed as simply one more foolish teenager.

He gave it fifteen minutes. He figured that was long enough for Yvette to do her part, and he took the opportunity to check the shop out too. The skylight opened directly above the counter, and certainly it _looked _as though he should be able to get in without breaking it. The door was alarmed and the windows shuttered, but he couldn't see any wires leading to the skylight. He figured it _must _be okay, though he longed for the chance to check his thinking with Rusty. He'd need a way out too, and really it had to be the skylight again, and that didn't sound fun at all.

Taking Yvette by the hand, they wandered outside and into a nearby cafe for coffee and pastries.

"Was your jewellery there?" he murmured, once he was sure they were alone.

She didn't answer for a moment, staring at him as if weighing something up. She must be worried about him, he realised with a smile that surprised him. Concerned that he might get caught. "Yes," she said at last. "A square diamond ring on the display on the left. The third tray from the bottom. The ring in the middle row on the right hand side. And a necklace with a single pearl. The next display along. The top row, the second necklace."

He nodded, quickly jotting the directions down on a napkin, as obliquely as he could.

"And a diamond bracelet," Yvette added quickly. "In that same display. The bottom row on the right hand side."

He added that to his notes. "Okay then," he said with a smile. "I'm set for tonight, except..." He frowned. "Do you know where I could get some rope?"

The garage a few miles away was the answer and they told the morose mechanic that they were looking for a tow rope for Yvette's new car. The guy barely glanced at him when he dropped the rope on the counter, and Danny handed the cash over for that and a flashlight, before inspecting the rope doubtfully. It looked kind of thin. But if it could haul a car he guessed it should be able to hold his weight.

"Now I'm set," he told Yvette confidently. "By tomorrow you'll have your jewellery back."

He felt something swell in his chest at the way she looked at him. Admiration and awe, like he was something special. Just that look made him feel like a man, and he wanted to stay with her, to care for her.

They spent the rest of the day driving around, abandoning themselves to the moment, talking about everything and nothing. Danny barely stopped smiling, he felt so happy, and Yvette's eyes were shining whenever she looked at him.

Was this how it felt to fall in love? He didn't _know. _Everything in his head was so mixed up. He just knew that he had to do this. He craved her approval. Longed to make her proud of him.

It grew dark, and they stopped for dinner at a little restaurant overlooking a cobbled street.

"I wish you did not have to leave tomorrow," Yvette said, as she ate a spoonful of caramelised peach. "I feel like I am losing you before I have even got to know you."

"I know," he said regretfully. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Perhaps you will come back one day," she suggested hopefully. "Or maybe I could come and visit you in America?"

He smiled. "I'd like that."

Her face fell. "Not that I would be able to visit anytime soon. Plane tickets are expensive, and I do not earn very much working as a maid."

Danny frowned, surprised. "Your Mom pays you?" he asked. He'd got the impression that Yvette's mother just expected her to work whenever.

"Yes," she nodded, "But only the same as the other maids."

Huh. Well, he supposed it didn't really matter, but he still suddenly felt uneasy. Distracting himself, he stared out of the window. "What's that?" he asked curiously, pointing to a building further down the street.

She followed his finger. "That is the swimming pool," she told him. "I believe it is shut over Christmas, which is unfortunate." She smiled and ran her bare foot up the inside of his thigh. "I believe I would like to see you in swimming trunks."

Mmm. He licked his lips. "How about without swimming trunks?"

Finding a side door that was out of sight of everyone was easy. Getting the lock open while they were both giggling so hard was a little trickier.

"You are good at this," Yvette told him as the door swung open.

"Practice makes perfect," he said, and they snuck into the darkened building, Danny turning the flashlight on as they followed the smell of chlorine downstairs and to the poolside.

Yvette slipped her dress off in one easy motion. "Perhaps there are other things we could practice," she murmured, standing before him in her bra and panties, and breathless, his eyes swept down over her stockinged legs. She looked like she'd walked straight out of his wildest fantasies.

They made love for hours in the pool, the warm water lapping over them. Danny thought this might just be as close to heaven as he'd ever get. He held her tightly, her body hot and smooth beneath his hands, and for one, fleeting moment, it felt like they were one person.

"I never want this to end," he murmured into her hair.

Her hands gripped his shoulders. "I do not want it to either," she said.

Honestly, he didn't think that this was love, but it was _something. _Intense and sudden and wonderful and dazzling and maybe, just maybe if they only had the chance, it could grow into something even stronger. After all, when he'd first met Rusty, he hadn't realised...hadn't known...and it wasn't the _same, _it wasn't anything close to the same, but he needed someone and Yvette had been there, and she had cared for him, and she was wonderful and beautiful and wicked, and he liked her and he wanted her, and right now he needed her.

This was their last night, and he made every second of it count.

They drove back towards the hotel later, locking the pool up as best they could. Yvette's hair was still damp as she drove.

"Drop me off a block or so from the pawn shop," he requested. "Then just head on home."

"I could come with you," she said slowly. "I could help."

He smiled and laid his hand on hers briefly. "Go home," he said. "I don't want you anywhere near this, Yvette. I can manage just fine on my own." He could. He was sure he could. But he still wished...

"I do not wish to leave you," she said unhappily. "I could wait in the car at least? Be your...getaway driver."

"No," he said certainly. "Thank you."

"If you are sure," she said, and somehow he would have expected more of an argument. It was strange; he almost felt...disappointed, and that was stupid, because what was he doing? Comparing her to Rusty? That didn't even begin to make sense.

He watched as she drove off. Right. Time to get to work.

Walking quickly, but not hurriedly, he headed round towards the pawn shop. Wasn't anyone around that he could see, but there were times when caution was the only way to go. Last thing he wanted was to be caught breaking into the building; being arrested very much wasn't part of his plan for tonight.

Like he'd thought, the tree overhung the building and it was easy enough for him to scramble up, the rope coiled loosely over his arm. He leapt down onto the roof, biting his lip hard to stifle the cry as his feet nearly skidded out from under him on the loose roof tiles.

Oh, he had to be more careful than that. Swallowing hard, he dropped down onto his hands and knees and crept up the roof towards the sky light. Only took him a moment or two to get it open, and he tied the end of the rope around the chimney securely before dropping it down to the floor below.

Looking down, it seemed a lot further than it had from the ground that morning. He took a deep breath, gripped the flashlight between his teeth, took the rope in his hands and swung out into the empty space.

Danny had never been the best in gym class. He didn't know the rules of football, and he didn't care for running round a track in a circle, but he could out sprint any cop he'd come across, and he could climb a rope with the best of them.

Still, his palms were sweating as he inched his way down, the rope spinning dizzily. He could do this. _He could do this. _He closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of the rope rasping over his gloves, and he imagined Rusty, just below him, imagined his voice steady and encouraging, imagined knowing with absolute certainty that he could not fall because Rusty was there.

"_Keep going, Danny," Rusty murmured in his mind. "You're almost there." _

His feet sank onto the floor and he breathed a sigh of relief. That was it. He was in.

He hurried over to the displays Yvette had indicated and set to work. The locks here were more complex than he'd been expecting and he grimaced. This was going to take a while. If he'd had the time...if he'd _thought..._he would have checked these locks while he'd been in before and gone to find something similar he could practice on. But he hadn't, and all he could do was lay the flashlight down on the counter while he worked, and keep his hands steady.

Took him twenty minutes, and all the time he was expecting to hear someone come in, expecting someone to notice the light through the shutters, to investigate. But there was nothing, and the case eventually swung open, and he reached in and retrieved the ring, the bracelet and the necklace. There. That was everything Yvette's father had given her. He grinned victoriously; he'd done it.

He closed up the cases quickly and headed for the rope. It was even harder going up than it had been coming down, but he managed it, pulling the rope up behind him and securing the skylight. And that was it. No one had seen him and he hadn't left anything behind. All he had to do was get back to the hotel and he was home free.

Mom was waiting for him in the lobby, standing in front of the reception desk, talking angrily to Yvette's mother. Yvette herself stood a little way distant, looking upset and afraid. They all turned to look at him as he walked in.

"Daniel!" Mom said, her voice loud and sharp, and she rushed over to him, hugging him tightly to his complete astonishment.

"Mom?" he said uncertainly.

"Oh, Daniel, you're back," she said without letting go of him, and she actually sounded thankful. "I thought...I thought..."

"I am relieved your son is safe, Madam Ocean," Yvette's mother said behind them.

Mom stepped away from him immediately. "Yes. Thank you for your assistance," she said stiffly. "Come along, Daniel." She headed for the elevator, nodding curtly to Yvette and her mother.

Danny smiled awkwardly at Yvette, uncertain of what was going on, but conscious of the jewellery stuffed into his back pocket. This wasn't the moment. He could only hope there'd be another one, but right now, he had to talk to Mom.

Unsurprisingly, she waited until they were in his room before she started in on him. "Daniel, where have you been today?" she demanded. "I've been looking for you all day. You weren't in your room, you weren't in the hotel...I've been going out of my _mind _searching for you. I was just getting ready to call the police."

Oh. He felt like the ground had vanished beneath his feet. "I didn't mean to worry you," he said awkwardly. "I was with my friend."

"Yes, I know," she said, scowling. "That girl downstairs. She told me that you'd spent the day with her, but she didn't know where you'd gone after that."

"I went for a walk," he said numbly. "Mom, I...I'm sorry. I should've left a note or something, to let you know where I was." Briefly, he thought of two days ago, and she'd walked out on him without telling him she was going or when she'd be back, and not for the first time either. She'd been doing it since he was a little kid, but that wasn't the _point. _Didn't matter what Mom did, it didn't change the fact that he'd been stupid and thoughtless and...and he'd actually frightened her. He could see it in her eyes. She'd been afraid for him. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"Sorry isn't good enough," she said angrily. "God, Daniel, this is just like you. You're so _selfish._"

It hit him hard, because right now it was true. She'd wanted to spend time with him, and he'd been caught up with his own concerns, with Yvette and the burglary. "Mom, I didn't mean to scare you," he said miserably.

For a second, he thought she was about to deny it, then she sighed and pressed her hand against the side of her face. "I thought you'd run away," she whispered and he could hear the fear and the grief in her voice.

He didn't say anything. He _couldn't _say anything. But for the first time in a very long time indeed, he reached out to her, trying to offer comfort and risking rejection yet again.

She let him embrace her for a long moment in complete silence. Funny. He was a little taller than her now. He'd never realised that before.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," he said again at last. "I just didn't think."

"Yes." She stepped back from him, and smiled, actually looking a little amused. "I saw the girl downstairs. She is very pretty. I...I'm glad that you've made a friend."

Oh. He swallowed hard and nodded, smiling slightly.

"I think," Mom said wearily. "That we should both head to bed now. It's very late, and we've got a long day tomorrow. Goodnight, Danny."

"Goodnight, Mom," he said, as she headed to the door.

She paused and looked back at him. "I'm so glad that you're alright," she said, and her voice was so soft that he wasn't even entirely sure he'd heard her right.

Sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

Once again Rusty found here was no particular reason to get up.

The air felt cold outside of his little fort of blankets. Fort...he grinned at his choice of words. When he'd just started school he, Brady and Cameron had made a fort in Cameron's living room out of blankets, cushions and furniture. This was sorta the same thing, he guessed, only colder. And without Cameron's Mom warning them to keep their feet off her couch. But put that way, it seemed kinda fun. He stretched stiffly and lit a cigarette and lay smoking and staring dizzily at the ceiling. Might be warmer than it had been, but the cold was in his bones and he ached.

He spent the morning curled up, listening to music and eating the other can of spaghettios. He'd swear the tomato sauce was actually close to frozen solid. Now there would be an interesting experiment to suggest in chemistry. The relative boiling and freezing points of canned goods. Beat that stupid thing with the sprouting beans from three years back anyway. Turns out that if you shut something up without light or heat or food or water, it grows up twisted and stunted, and it doesn't matter what you do after that, it'll always be _wrong._

That hadn't been something he'd particularly wanted to learn. He looked around the cold dark room and sighed. Had been two days before he'd managed to tell Danny what was bothering him. Oh, Danny had known there was something wrong – Danny always did, after all – and he'd already been as solidly reassuring as Rusty could wish for, but that had been only a couple of months after Mom left and he'd still been mired in the days when talking was difficult and sometimes impossible. But eventually he'd told Danny about the experiment and Danny had sighed and leaned against him while he'd talked. Later Danny had taken him into the public library and shown him a book full of plants that thrived in the harshest conditions. Flowers that bloomed in the desert. Grass that grew in Antarctica. Lichen that clung to the top of mountains. So maybe he was lichen or maybe the metaphor only took them so far, but he understood what Danny was trying to tell him.

He was tough. He was _alive._

But sometimes...at times like this when he was alone and Danny wasn't around to argue, sometimes he had to wonder. Normal was overrated but he wasn't like the other kids in his class and he didn't see that changing anytime soon. Maybe there'd always be something wrong with him cos of where he came from. Maybe there was no escape from this life. Maybe...

"_I come from down in the valley_

_Where Mister when you're young_

_They bring you up to do_

_Like your Daddy done..." _

His fist clenched convulsively and he turned the tape player off. Yeah. Thanks, Bruce. That was pretty much what he was afraid of.

He ate a forkful of spaghettios moodily. He wanted his life to amount to more than this. But sometimes he couldn't see how it ever could.

With an effort he brushed the thought aside before it turned into self pity and turned his attention to going over his plans for tonight again.

He _hadn't _forgotten anything, and every time he he thought through the plan he became more convinced that he hadn't missed anything. So the only danger would be something he didn't know about. He had to admit, he wished he had a few more days to check the place out properly. Even more, he wished that Danny was here. So often Danny would see angles that he'd never even thought of thinking of. He could really use the second opinion right about now. And even more than that, he missed Danny. And that was only partly because he was desperate to know that Danny was alright. Truth was, he was tired and lonely.

Through the afternoon he worked on his book report for The Outsiders. Somehow, he found himself focusing on the friendships maybe a little more than he should have. Everything was better when you weren't alone, and nothing good lasts. Nice to have a book that didn't teach you anything new.

His fingers were stiff and aching and beyond cold, and he was in constant danger of nodding off. Seemed as though every day he felt a little more tired. Might not be freezing right now, but he was very far from warm and he had a feeling that probably wasn't good for him in the long run.

The candles had almost burned out by the time he'd finished and was reading over his report. Pretty good, he thought. Maybe a little _too _good. With a sigh he went back over it, adding in spelling mistakes, removing some punctuation and capitalisation, and changing one of his arguments so it said the opposite of what he meant. There. Hopefully that should be enough to get his essay passed over. He hated English class. Stuff like Math or Physics were better, when he could have a good idea whether he'd got things right or wrong. English he was left struggling and he tried to err on the side of caution. So much safer to be dismissed as on the stupid side of average.

With a sigh he rolled over and glanced at the clock. Just before eleven. It would take him a couple of hours to walk to the power company. Seemed like now was a good time to leave.

Gathering together the lockpicks, a flat knife and a flashlight, he glanced towards the door and grimaced. The walk was going to be cold, but he didn't want to layer up like he had before. Might be a squeeze getting through the window. And he certainly didn't want to risk leaving any of his stuff lying around near the soon-to-be-crime scene. No, he would just have to put up with the cold.

Though one good thing about this weather was that he could pull his hood up and half cover his face with his jumper, and no one would spare him a second glance. Try doing that in the middle of summer, see how long it took before someone called the cops.

Like he'd expected the walk was long and cold. Luckily though it seemed as if the snow had all but gone. Should make the whole Spider-man schtick easier anyway. Even better, there were practically no people on the streets. On the two hour walk he saw about four other people. None of them looked at him. He was confident that they wouldn't be able to recognise him later, and that was good. Being arrested very much wasn't part of his plan for tonight.

He smoked a couple of cigarettes on the way. Mostly just for the chance to cup his hands around the match in some out of the way doorway, and let the warmth touch him even briefly. Huh. Mrs O'Donnell had once told him he should have more empathy for the Little Match Girl. If she could see him now...he'd tell her he _still _thought the girl was stupid. There were a whole host of things he was willing to try before lying down and dying became the best option, dead Grandma or no dead Grandma. Mind you, Mrs O'Donnell would probably stick him in detention for a month if she saw him here and he told her that. She hadn't thought much of him. Most of his teachers didn't think much of him, right back to the first grade. It was like he was wearing a sign that told them he wasn't worth it. Stunted and twisted and wrong. And lazy, stupid, troubled, a show off, a liar, an attention seeker...he'd heard them throw a lot of words for him around. It didn't matter. He could charm them when he had to and the rest of the time he just tried to make them forget he existed.

He was already tired out when he reached the power company and he lingered for five minutes or so in a doorway opposite, resting up, rubbing his arms and legs furiously to try and ease the cold and the ache, all the while watching the buildings around him carefully. No sign of life. No sign anyone might be watching. Right. Time to get to work.

The drainpipe was relatively easy to climb, all things considered, and that took him to a window on the second floor. He managed to scramble up onto the ledge and hunch over, back pressed against the wall, while he used the knife to slowly force the latch.

It swung outwards, of course, and that required a tricky moment of dizzy negotiation, standing on the ledge and leaning back out over the street below as he eased the window open.

His foot slipped slightly and he half fell forwards, clutching desperately at the side of the window, fighting for his grip.

The wind was rushing past his ears. Funny, it had barely been noticeable when he was safely on the ground.

"_You're alright," Danny murmured in his head. "Just keep going._"

Finally, he managed to scramble inside, and he closed the window behind him so no one passing from the street would notice anything wrong. Keeping it low and covered, he carefully turned the flashlight on and looked round. He was in a large room, crammed with rows of filing cabinets. Right. Mr Lewis' office should be just a little down the hall, on the left.

Confidently, he headed for the door and out into the corridor. Sure enough, the office was right where he expected it to be. It was locked of course, but that didn't slow him down for more than a minute or so.

Now, the petty cash had been in a lockbox and he'd told her to lock it in the filing cabinet. That filing cabinet, right behind the desk Rusty would guess. More locks, and these took a little longer. Wasn't exactly difficult so much as it was fiddly, but eventually the drawer slid open and with a grin, he looked down at the lockbox. Perfect.

Lifting it out, he shook it gleefully. Seemed like it was full, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna stop and open it here. He tucked it into his coat instead. This was the point where he got out and headed home.

He heard the footsteps on the stairs the moment he opened the office door. Saw the swinging flashlight. And as the security guards shouted, he was already back inside, slamming the door shut.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit. _

Someone must have seen something. Alright. They were between him and his way out. What now?

He ran straight for the window, throwing it open wildly as the door opened behind him, and they hadn't got a good look at him, they _couldn't_ have got a good look at him, and he jumped out and down, onto the flat roof of the building next door, and he ran, scrambled along it towards the edge, and they were shouting after him, climbing down themselves, and they were gonna catch him...

He jumped. Off the roof and down, and the feeling of falling seemed to last forever as the world rushed up towards him, and he landed awkwardly in a tangle of twisted shrubs.

He heard the crack before he felt it, and then the pain came. White hot splintering, racing up his left arm, and automatically he curled into a ball, his teeth tearing into his lip, trying to manage the pain, trying to make it _stop._

White noise surrounded him and he felt sick and dizzy and lost. Alright. He had to focus. He had to get up and get moving, cos they might not jump off a roof after him, but they'd be coming nonetheless.

Staggering to his feet, he pulled his arm in tight against his chest. He didn't look down at it. He didn't want to know. Instead he ran, or jogged at least, weaving a drunken path down side streets and alleys, no thought but to get as far away as possible.

After a time – he couldn't say how long – he was sure that no one was following and he couldn't go any further. He fell into a doorway in a deserted alleyway and sat huddled against the wall, trying to catch his breath, trying to think past the pain.

They'd seen him. But he really didn't think they'd caught more than a glimpse, he'd moved too fast. A figure in black, that was about all they could've got, which meant that if he could just get home then he'd be safe. Nothing to connect him. He hoped, at least.

There was something warm trickling down his neck. He touched his face curiously with his good hand. Huh. His cheek was cut up pretty badly. Must have been the bushes he landed in.

He looked down at his arm for the first time. It was hidden by his coat but...it didn't feel like his arm any more. There was only pain and he couldn't move it properly.

Couldn't be that bad. He'd probably just jarred it or something. Sure, it hurt like hell now, but that'd fade. Soon. Very soon. Any minute now.

He bit his lip hard and forbid the tears from falling.

Had to get home. Might be kinda tempting to just stay here, but the security guards would call the cops, and they might comb the streets, and a kid sleeping in a doorway might just draw the wrong kind of attention.

Slowly he stumbled to his feet and every movement had him gritting his teeth against the sharp pain in his arm. Soon. Honestly.

He walked home with his arm cradled against him, and the pain was immense and blinding, and he couldn't think of anything else. He had no idea who he might have passed, or who might have seen him...all that mattered was getting somewhere _safe._

Finally, he reached home, and it was so difficult to get the door open with only one hand. By the time he got in, he was shaking uncontrollably, and as the door slammed behind him, he fell to his knees and crawled unsteadily through to his room. With a dizzying feeling of dread, he pulled his coat off and looked down at his arm. It looked...wrong. Purple and swollen and unnaturally crooked.

He swallowed hard. This couldn't be happening. He didn't know what to _do._

There was nothing he _could _do right now. He could only hope that it looked better in the morning, but honestly, he didn't think it would.

Too tired and sore to move any further, he lay down beside his bed, pulling his coat up and over him, and he closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning. The tears rose up and this time he couldn't stop them no matter how he tried, no matter how fiercely he told himself that he was twelve now and far too old to be crying like a little baby.

Danny. Oh, Danny, it _hurt, _and he was scared, and he wanted...he wanted... He wrapped his arm around his chest awkwardly, and imagined Danny sat behind him, his arms around Rusty's shoulder, holding him safe and tight until he fell asleep. It was a nice dream. But it wasn't anywhere close to the real thing. He listened to the sound of his own sobs, and waited for sleep to take him.

Sleep would make everything better.


	43. Unseasonal Part 8

**A/N: Finally the last chapter of this little arc. Sorry it's taken so long.**

**A/N2: Once again, thanks to ParisAmy for being wonderful and providing me with the French translations. :) **

_**Timeline:**_

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**4. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**5. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**6. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**7. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**10. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**12. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**15. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**19. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**20. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**22. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**25. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

_27th December 1978_

Danny woke early but made no move to get up. Somehow, he just didn't feel like it.

This was the last day in Nice. They'd be catching a flight this evening, getting in late. And tomorrow everything would be back to normal and he would meet Rusty first thing.

There was so much he wanted to tell Rusty. It had been an age since they'd last spoke and the separation was an almost physical ache. A week. He knew how bad things could get in a week. He'd never forget, after all, the week he'd spent away when Rusty had been living on the streets. He remembered what he'd come back to; Rusty bruised and frightened and lost, overwhelmed by the smallest act of kindness, even from Danny. Now things hadn't been anywhere near that bad for a long time, but it was difficult not to imagine... He _needed _to get back home to Rusty. Wasn't just the worry either. He missed hearing Rusty's voice, missed his smile, missed him being there to talk and listen and share and comfort.

At the same time though, he didn't want to leave Yvette. Oh, he'd always known that this was going to end and there was nothing he could do. All his daydreams were just that – dreams. But still, she was the first girl he'd ever felt this way about. And she was the first girl he'd ever...she was a whole lot of firsts.

The fact that he'd probably never see her again after today, well, that was all kinds of painful. He had to make sure he actually got to see her today. He had to give her the jewellery, after all. And he needed to say goodbye.

He closed his eyes tight. Somehow, he'd find a way to come back some day. At the very least, he could write her. And they'd have today.

The trouble with that was he didn't know exactly what plans Mom might have for him. After the scare he'd given her yesterday, he didn't know how she'd be feeling.

It wasn't just that he hadn't meant to scare her like that, he hadn't realised he _could _scare her like that. So often she didn't notice whether he was there or not. The idea that she might care if he turned up missing for not even a day...yes, of course there'd been the day of Dad's death, but that was different. Point was, after this week he'd more or less resigned himself to the fact that she didn't _want _to try and be closer. Now he wasn't so sure again.

_Was _all this his fault? He'd been caught up with Yvette...could he have tried harder with Mom? The guilt crept in and he couldn't be certain.

He lay in bed for a long time, going over every detail and wondering.

Eventually he got up, showered and dressed, trying out the hair gel and stuff that Mom had given him. Worked just fine. Smelled good too. He smiled and walked next door to Mom's room, knocking lightly on the door and continuing to smile as she answered. "Good Morning, Mom, I was wondering what the plans were for today?" There. Polite and inquisitive and undemanding. Nothing she could object to, surely.

It didn't seem as though there was, because she grabbed her purse and stepped out into the corridor. "I thought we'd start with breakfast and sort it out from there," she told him.

She found them an out of the way table in the restaurant and they sat down with coffee, croissants, fruit and pastries.

Mom sighed. "The coffee here is so much better than what you get back home."

"Stronger, certainly," he said, looking down at his cup.

She smiled across the table at him. "As you get older, you'll find that stronger is always better. At least when it comes to coffee."

"I'll bear that in mind," he said with a grin.

"So," she said, putting her coffee cup down and looking at him seriously. "Where did you go yesterday?"

His smile vanished. "Yvette took me into town," he explained. "She got a car for Christmas and she wanted to try it out."

She nodded a couple of times. "Did you have fun?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes," he answered honestly. "Yes, I did, but I'm sorry," he rushed on. "Honestly, Mom, I'd just assumed that you'd be busy again." He stopped short, seeing the look on her face. "I mean - "

" - I know what you mean," she interrupted quietly. She sighed. "I'm glad you had a good time at least."

He didn't say anything, twisting his hands together guiltily.

"If you want to say goodbye to your...friend...this morning," she suggested hesitantly. "There's some shops I wouldn't mind looking around. We don't need to be at the airport till this evening and I've checked at the front desk and we can leave our luggage here till then. So I'd thought we might do something together."

"That sounds good," he said hopefully. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I don't think your French is good enough for a play or a movie, but I did see some posters..." she went on slowly. "If you're not interested, we'll think of something else, but apparently there's a circus set up in one of the parks. We could go this afternoon."

That hadn't been what he was expecting her to say and he blinked, considering. He could remember being a little kid, begging her and Dad to take him to the circus. That had been before he'd met Rusty, even. For once they'd listened, and he could remember the smell of popcorn and peanuts, the scary clowns, and deciding that he'd be happy to go up high if he got to ride on a trapeze. It had been one of the few family outings he could remember that hadn't ended in vitriol and recriminations.

"I think I'd like that," he said, sounding almost surprised.

Mom beamed at him. "Good. That's settled then. I'll buy the tickets while I'm out shopping." She went to stand up. "I'll meet you at my room at about midday, Daniel. Enjoy your morning."

He intended to.

Yvette was waiting outside his door. She smiled brightly when she saw him, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Did you get into much trouble with your mother?" she asked anxiously as he ushered her inside.

"Surprisingly, no," he told her. "I think she was too relieved.

"Ma mere said she was making a fuss all evening," Yvette said. "She should leave you alone. You were not doing anything bad."

He looked at her. "I was breaking into a shop," he pointed out.

She shrugged. "But your mother does not know that."

"Luckily for me," he said lightly. "Sit down. Let me fetch your jewellery."

Her eyes lit up. "You really got them?" she said eagerly.

"Of course," he said, like it was nothing. "I told you I would." He walked over to his case and grandly drew out the little paper bag he'd concealed the jewellery in. He tipped it out into her hand and she squealed with delight.

"Oh, Danny," she exclaimed, running her fingers through the gold in her hands ecstatically. "Oh, you are _wonderful._" She kissed him with passionate abandon, her arms snaking around his neck, dragging him down and onto the bed, the jewellery spilling onto the floor, temporarily forgotten.

Later – much later – and they were lying in bed together, Yvette still marvelling over the bracelet she was now wearing. "Thank you, Danny," she said softly. "I wish you did not have to leave."

"I wish I could take you with me," he said with a sigh.

"Perhaps you could smuggle me in your suitcase," she suggested.

He grinned. "Suppose you got mislaid at the airport?" he teased. "I might never find you again."

She giggled prettily. "That would be terrible," she agreed, sliding on top of him. "Perhaps I could spend the flight on your lap instead, like this. That way we would only be using one seat."

"Tempting as that is..." he said, reaching up and stroking a hand through her hair.

"I know," she said quietly, rolling off him and sitting up. "But I'm going to miss you, Danny. There are no boys like you here."

"There are no girls like you in America," he said seriously.

"Girls like me how?" she asked innocently.

He smiled and reached over to pick up the necklace from where it had fallen. "You know," he said, as he fastened it around her throat, lightly kissing her neck at the same time. "Beautiful. Charming. Sexy."

She leaned back against him, looking at herself in the mirror across from the bed. "It is so pretty," she said contentedly, her hand on the necklace. "I always wanted things like this."

He froze. That was...that didn't quite make sense. (_Or maybe it suddenly made far too much sense.) "_But it was yours before," he said slowly. "It's the necklace your father got for you."

Tensing up, she gave herself away in an instant. "Of course it is," she said, a fraction of a second too slow.

"You told me..." He pulled away from her, shaking his head, his brow furrowed. "You told me your mother sold your jewellery. You said...it wasn't _right. _You lied? You lied to me." He stood up, standing away from the bed, staring at her like he'd never known her. "You lied to me."

She sprang across the bed, holding a hand out beseechingly. "Non! Danny, s'il vous plaît. Ce n'était pas comme ça, honnêtement. Ce n'était pas vraiment un mensonge, ce n'était pas vrai. Je viens toujours voulu ce genre de choses. Et Maman ne serait jamais me laisser faire. Tu comprenez, n'est-ce pas?"

He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the bitter taste in his throat. "You always wanted...?" he repeated, and he shook his head. "I would have bought them for you, if you'd _asked_. I thought you were...I would have got you whatever you wanted."

"It is just a game," she pleaded, the tears rolling down her face. "It is a story, that is all. My mother is cruel – I tell people to show them that. No one has ever tried to do anything about it before. I did not _expect _you to."

"So it's my fault?" She'd lied to him. She'd _used _him, and he'd let himself get played like a fool, and it _hurt. _He could hardly breathe.

He turned away from her, picking up her clothes from the floor and laying them gently on the bed. "I think maybe you'd better go. Keep the jewellery hidden. Don't wear it in public for at least a couple of years."

"Danny..." She reached out as though to lay a hand on his arm and he flinched away. He wasn't gonna cry. Not in front of her. Not at all.

He stared resolutely at the wall, and listened to the sound of her dressing.

"Goodbye, Danny," she said quietly at last.

He couldn't just let her walk away and not say anything. "Goodbye," he said stiffly, turning around to face her, even if he couldn't look her in the eye.

"I am sorry," she said in a small voice.

"You're sorry you did it? Or you're sorry I found out you'd lied?" he asked.

"You lie," she answered swiftly.

He nodded. "Not like that. Not about that. And not to you. I told you more truths than I've told to anyone in a very long time."

She didn't have an answer to that. She just stood there, looking at him helplessly, and in spite of himself, he found himself feeling a little sorry for her. He felt so much older than her.

He crossed the floor towards her, and kissed her on the cheek. "Goodbye, Yvette," he said gently.

"Goodbye, Danny," she said, pressing her hand against his face for the briefest of moments.

He still felt that touch long after she'd left.

He took a long hot shower that did little to wash away the feeling of shame and disappointment that clung to him.

Really, he _was _a fool. He should have known better. The signs had all been there. He'd always prided himself on his ability to read people, but she'd been able to lie to him completely.

God, he longed to go home to Rusty right about now. He dropped his head against the tiles for a long moment and let the water cascade over him. It hurt. She'd hurt him. He'd thought...he'd thought they had something. He'd thought she cared for him. She'd talked to him like he mattered. He'd told her things...about Dad, and about Mom and about Rusty...things that he'd never told anyone else but Rusty. She'd listened to him. She'd said time and again that she'd never met anyone like him. Was it really all just a line?

She'd told stories to earn his sympathy. A game, she'd said. Making things up to impress him, and she'd said she hadn't expected him to act on it, but he couldn't just hear that sort of injustice and sit by and do nothing, and she hadn't even tried to stop him. She hadn't even told the truth when they'd gone to case out the pawnshop. Even if she didn't want to admit to lying, she could have said the jewellery wasn't there. Instead she'd chosen what she wanted to have him steal.

It made him feel sick to the stomach.

And she'd said that no one else had ever tried to act on her stories, which meant that she'd done this to other people. Lied to them. He wasn't special, and he felt so _stupid._

He rubbed his eyes fiercely with the heels of his hands. Right now, all he wanted was to be back home, lying in bed with Rusty. There, he could cry, if he wanted to. Here and now, he had to put on a brave face.

Mom was waiting for him downstairs, wearing the scarf he'd got her for Christmas. He dropped his case off behind the desk, thankful that at least Yvette wasn't there.

"I found a nice little restaurant around the corner," Mom announced. "I made a reservation for lunch. We should have time to eat before the show."

He made himself smile. "Sounds good," he said.

Eating was difficult. He still felt lousy inside and he picked at his croque monsieur barely able to stomach it.

"You're not hungry, Daniel?" Mom asked, frowning.

He shrugged lightly. "I don't know why. Sorry."

"Are you upset about something?" she pressed. "Leaving that girl...?"

She was looking at him intently, all her attention focused on him, like she really wanted to know, like she was concerned.

He swallowed hard and glanced down at the table. He couldn't tell her the truth.

"Daniel..." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm your mother. I want to help you, but I can't if you're not willing to even talk to me."

She wanted to help him? He could hear the sincerity in her voice and he sighed. Once upon a time, all he'd wanted was for Mom to notice when he was upset and make it all better. Now he didn't want to tell her, and that made him feel guilty and ashamed. He really shouldn't assume she was going to let him down. She'd tried to comfort him with Dad, after all, no matter had happened after. Maybe he couldn't tell her the truth, but he could share a little of his life with her at least.

"I found out she lied to me," he told her shortly. "She was making up stories, trying to impress me."

"Oh, Daniel," she sighed. "Everyone lies. When it comes to romance, everyone has their own agenda. You need to learn to recognise that."

He nodded and didn't say anything, and he didn't think she was right, but maybe he was just being naïve.

"In a few years, you'll find you barely remember the relationships you have now," she went on. "Once you're at college, you'll make new friends, meet new girls – women – who will be able to help you with your career and your life."

Danny wondered where love fit into Mom's world. It was the sort of question he would never, ever ask.

"The point is," she finished. "I know it hurts now, and I'm sorry. But it will all go away soon."

That didn't exactly help now. Nonetheless, he smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

He managed to change the subject, and they talked about her job for the rest of dinner, and he walked with her round to the park where the circus tent was waiting.

The afternoon passed quickly and with an effort of concentration, he lost himself in the show. Clowns and jugglers and knife throwers and acrobats danced before him and he watched with the appropriate appreciation, and Mom spent more time watching him than watching the performers.

She'd done this for him. She was trying to make him happy, and that made him feel warm inside in a way her words never would, and it even took some of the sting away.

Later, in the airport, waiting for the plane, Mom unexpectedly laid her hand over his. "This vacation...it has been okay, hasn't it, Daniel?" she asked anxiously.

He looked at her, considering.

It had been long, and desperately lonely at times, and he missed Rusty, and he missed Dad. And Mom had hurt him. She'd left him alone again and again, she'd called him selfish and ungrateful, and she'd told him that she didn't want him...and he was supposed to just get over that in a second. And today, Yvette had left him feeling foolish and betrayed...but she had changed his life. She'd made him a man and she'd made him feel things he'd never felt before and no matter what, he cared for her and he always would. And in the end, Mom had made an effort, and he thought now that she did...that she did love him, at least a little.

He smiled. "It's been okay, Mom. Thank you."

* * *

Sleep didn't solve anything. Not that he was able to do more than doze for a few minutes at a time, pain and cold keeping him awake, shivering against the wall and fighting not to let the tears fall.

But when the sky finally grew light enough for him to see by...his arm was _still _fucked. Swollen and purple and unnaturally crooked. He bit his lips hard. Time to face facts; it was broken. God, what a mess.

He took a deep breath. Okay. There was a free clinic down near the river. They'd be able to fix him up if he went there. Except...he screwed his eyes shut. Except they'd want a parent there to sign stuff and shit. Everyone always wanted to talk to his parents and that was unthinkable at the best of times, and right now it was completely impossible. Not to mention there'd be questions. He hated that sort of question.

Right. So. If he _didn't _go get it looked at, what would happen? Yes, he wanted the pain to stop, but it wasn't like the clinic would be able to do anything about that. He could get Tylenol whether he went or not, and even if they gave him something stronger and even if he didn't have to pay for it, he still wasn't gonna actually take it if he could help it. So no matter what he did, the pain was still going to be a factor. As for the arm itself, these things did heal on their own eventually. He could splint it, wrap it up, keep it from getting jostled...

He leaned his head back against the wall and considered. It sounded like it could work. Only problem was, he could imagine the look on Danny's face when he explained this plan. He grinned to himself, picturing the complete lack of amusement. Yeah. Yeah. Sorry, Danny.

Besides, making sure his arm wasn't jostled? That wasn't in his control. Dad grabbed him by the arm all the time, and the way he was hurting right now, if that happened he might just pass out. And quite apart from his own feelings, he did something as sissyish as faint when he was getting beat, Dad might just kill him out of sheer disgust.

That left him back where he'd started, considering the clinic. He sighed and rubbed his hand across his mouth. Seemed likely that they'd treat him even without a parent – they just wouldn't let him leave until his parents had come for him. And when no one showed up, that's when they'd call social work. Like he didn't have enough to deal with.

Still, if he played it right, he should be able to sneak out again. He hoped, anyway.

It was the best plan he had.

Except even then it wouldn't work. Maybe he'd come by the broken arm honestly, but there were other, older bruises on his arms and chest. He wasn't stupid. Pattern of bruises obviously from a number of different occasions – it painted a picture.

He had to cover them up. Make sure there was nothing old there that couldn't be explained by the fall.

Slowly he stood up and headed through to the kitchen. Wasn't the cold that was making him shake as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out an old cast iron frying pan. Right. Chest first. Pulling of his jumper, he glanced at himself critically, lining up the pan and the bruises. Then he swung, hard, catching himself in the ribs with the edge of the pan and wincing hard. Not quite. He swung again, even harder, and the pain left him gasping for breath.

Fuck, that hurt.

Dropping the pan, he glanced at the bruises on his good arm, clenched his fist tightly, and slammed his arm into the kitchen counter. There. He'd been hurt often enough to know when something was going to bruise. An hour or so and he'd be nicely purple.

He was throbbing all over now, the fresh shock providing an almost pleasant distraction from his arm. That was about to change.

The actual site of the injury was fine, of course, that had bruised all by itself, but his upper arm was sporting a yellowing hand shaped bruise and there was no way that didn't look suspicious.

This was going to be pretty excruciating.

With a loud cry, he swung the pan as viciously as he could, and the pain dropped him like a stone, sending him to his knees in a mess of tears and incoherence.

Numbly – shaking – he crawled into the pile of blankets still in the corner of the kitchen and curled up tightly, his eyes shut tight, his arm nursed against his chest and even breathing sent jolts of pain tearing through him.

That was it. There should be nothing to give him away.

He lay still for a long time, fiercely fighting for control. It was just pain. He had to keep on top of it, that was all. He'd hurt worse than this before, hadn't he? Gradually the shaking lessened and the pain faded back to manageable levels.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. There was something he wanted to avoid doing again if humanly possible.

With a groan he stood up and went and fetched the lockbox. Time to see what last night had got him. God, if it wasn't enough after all this...he didn't know _what _he'd do. Picking the lock one handed was tricky, and in the end he wound up sitting with it gripped tight between his feet and bending right over to open it. Eventually, after a frustrating half hour, the money spilled all over the ground. He scooped it up and counted it quickly. Two fifties, four twenties, three tens and a bunch of change. He felt the smile spread over his face. That should do nicely.

Alright. He dressed quickly in a t-shirt, pulling a bright orange sweater over the top, and he was set for the day. He stuffed the money into a paper bag and dropped it to the bottom of his schoolbag, shoving his coat and a couple of other things in there afterwards. Slinging it onto his good shoulder, he headed out.

The walk was long and cold and hard, and every step he took jarred his arm painfully, but he ended up at the clinic before it opened. He wasn't the only one waiting, unfortunately, and he stood shivering in the midst of a small knot of people until the door opened, and then he was swept inside to wait in a queue behind the front desk.

Inside, the clinic was stuffy and poorly lit. There was a faint smell of disinfectant, almost overpowered by the smell of sweat and vomit. The rows of spindly chairs slowly started to fill up as people in front of him were booked in and sent to wait. Had to admit, the idea of getting to sit down right now was tempting. The adrenaline from earlier had faded and now pain and exhaustion were making sleep seem a tempting prospect.

Finally though, he reached the front of the queue. The tired-looking nurse didn't even glance up. "Name?" she said abruptly, her pen hovering over a form.

"Jamie Kerr," he said.

She looked up quickly, frowning at him. "Are you on your own?"

"Mom had to work," he explained, blinking innocently. "She dropped me off and said you could call her when I was done."

"Uh huh." She pursed her lips and he got the impression he was seriously inconvenient.

"It's my arm," he added quickly. "I think it's broken." Hopefully that would be persuasive.

She eyed the lump in his sweater where his arm was cradled against his chest. "Can I see?"

Grimacing, he managed to pull the jumper up far enough so his arm was visible.

It only took a second before she nodded. "Yes, alright. Fill out the first page of this form, drop it off in the box and we'll see about getting you sorted and calling your mother."

As long as they did it in that order. He took a seat and started on the form. Was all just basic details. Name, address, date of birth, phone number. He had most of them all ready, and he made himself a year older than he really was. For his imaginary mother's work number, he entered the number of the public library. They were closed through New Year, so it would ring but no one would answer. Perfect for his purpose in other words.

Done, he dropped the form in the box and returned to the hard chair, curling up and trying to get as comfortable as he could. The pain was wearing on him and he tried to stay as still as possible as the waiting room gradually filled up until there was no room left and the noise was unbearable. He did his best not to meet anyone's eyes, to be unremarkable and beneath notice. He was close enough to home that it wasn't entirely implausible that someone might recognise him and then there'd be trouble.

He waited and watched other people being taken before him, and when they finally called for Jamie Kerr he'd almost managed to doze off.

Stumbling slightly as he stood, he headed through to the room he was pointed to. It was a long room with eight curtained off cubicles, most of which appeared to be occupied. He hung back, looking around uncertainly for a long moment.

"Jamie Kerr?" a nurse asked, walking up to him.

He nodded quickly, wondering if they'd somehow found him out.

"And your birthdate," she added.

"12/14/1965," he answered promptly and he didn't see even a hint of suspicion in her face. He relaxed; seemed this was just routine.

"Okay, I've got a note here that you came in on your own," she went on. "And unfortunately we've not been able to get in touch with your mother just yet, but I'm sure we'll reach her soon. In the meantime if you come with me, we'll get your arm fixed up." She led him towards a cubicle near the back of the room. There was a chair and a trolley bed with a suspicious stain and not much else. "Okay, you jump up on there and take your jumper off," she told him.

He did as he was told, even though removing his sweater one handed was difficult and painful.

"T-shirt too," she told him absently.

That was even more tough, and he bit his lip hard as he pulled his arm through his t-shirt sleeve. Now naked to the waist, he sat shivering as she examined his arm, thankfully not really touching it.

"Take this please," she said, passing over a cup with a couple of pills at the bottom and a glass of water. "The doctor will be in to see you soon."

She left and he stared at the pills in the bottom of the cup doubtfully. He didn't want to take them. He was exposed, right in the middle of a room full of people he didn't know and couldn't trust. Taking something that might make him slow to react to danger...it just didn't strike him as the best idea. He could deal with pain. Better to be safe.

Mind made up, he hid the pills in his schoolbag and swallowed the water quickly. He wanted, he could take them when he was safe at home.

Hopefully the doctor wouldn't be able to tell that he hadn't taken them. He wasn't sure; he'd never seen a doctor before. Just luck; anytime he'd been ill it had gone away on its own. He'd been sent to the school nurse a time or six, and certainly he'd encountered doctors when Danny had been in the hospital that time. But a doctor actually treating him? That was new and it made him nervous. Way Dad always told it, doctors were the enemy. Part of the authorities that he had to hide from for fear of being taken away and punished worse. And alright, he knew that wasn't exactly right...but it wasn't exactly wrong either. He sighed. Wasn't like he was trying to protect Dad or anything. What happened to him was his business, and he didn't see why anyone else had to get involved, that was all.

Elsewhere in the room people were arguing and yelling. Made his head hurt. And as someone ran past the cubicle, making the curtains shake, he drew his knees up to his chest, glad that he hadn't taken the pills.

He wished Danny was here.

Was maybe an hour before the doctor appeared, surprisingly young, dressed in a white coat and looking about as exhausted as Rusty felt. He quickly looked across Rusty's bare chest and arms, and the scratches on his face, and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Dear me, we have been in the wars, haven't we?"

There really wasn't much he could say to that so he simply nodded.

The doctor picked up the notes and started leafing through them. "How did this happen then," he asked, sounding like he was barely paying attention, but there was just a hint of an edge of suspicion to his voice. He really couldn't afford any slip ups here.

"Got hit in the arm by a swan," he said with a grin.

There was a second's pause and the doctor looked up at him, blinking. "Really?"

"Nah," he said cheerily. "Fell out of a tree. I was trying to reach some icicles and it was slippier than I thought," he added with the right amount of ruefulness.

"I see," the doctor said, nodding and looking more relaxed. Seemed his lie was well and truly swallowed. Good.

The exam was mercifully brief but unbelievably painful, as his arm was moved this way and that, and he longed to scream that just because he apparently _could _bend that way didn't mean he _should. _Worse than that was having someone in his personal space while he was hurting and vulnerable, looming over him, holding him down and hurting him, and having to hold absolutely still, knowing if he flinched or jumped or trembled or let any of the fear running through him out, even for a second, it would be disastrous. The object here was to be normal and he carefully kept his face expressionless and concentrated on the smell of coffee and stale cigarette smoke.

"You've been very brave," the doctor commented approvingly. "Alright. I'm just going to get that set."

Great. He nodded shortly and the doctor vanished briefly, returning with a nurse and a tray.

He sat still and stared blankly at the floor. This had not been a good week and he was _exhausted._ He had to think that if he'd actually taken that pill he'd have been unconscious right now.

Still, he did sort of wish he'd taken the pills when the doctor started to set his arm.

"This shouldn't hurt too much," he said.

It was a lie.

It hurt every bit as much as the fall had, and he bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming as the bone scraped into position, leaving a thousand nerve endings catching fire in its wake. Oh, he wanted Danny here right now. Fuck, he thought he was _good _with pain. Right now, as the doctor stood back and he gasped for breath, hearing the whisper of the ragged sob in his own voice, right now he felt every inch the sissy and the coward Dad always claimed him to be.

"There you go," the doctor said as he finished off the splint. "Now you just need to get an x-ray to confirm that the bone is sitting in the right place, and we'll get you plastered up and your parents will take you home."

He nodded, ignoring the dull throbbing in his head and the trembling in his arms and legs. He did want to go home. Very much.

He followed the nurse round to the x-ray department. More waiting. The teenage girl sitting opposite screamed in pain, clutching_ her _broken arm, and her father yelled at the nurses every bit as loudly, while her mother sat with her arm across her shoulder, and Rusty felt a strange sort of envy. When he was finally called in, the x-ray itself was over in less than five minutes and they sent him back round to the clinic to wait in another cubicle, staring at the stains on the curtain and trying not to throw up.

Eventually the doctor came back with a nurse and they set about plastering his arm and Rusty looked down at the scuff marks on his shoes and concentrated on keeping his face blank and pain free.

"There you go," the doctor said at last. "All done."

He nodded tersely, not quite trusting himself to speak just yet. The pain was wearing him down.

The doctor turned to the nurse. "Here's a prescription for analgesia – give it to the parents, and make sure they schedule an appointment in six weeks to see about getting that cast taken off."

Six weeks? He glanced down at the cast, scowling. It was bulky and hot and already uncomfortable. He had a feeling it could cause a lot of problems. Busy considering the difficulties of picking pockets and escaping from Dad, he almost missed the nurse grumpily telling him to follow her.

She led him back to the waiting room. "We haven't been able to get hold of your mother yet and you can't be discharged without an adult there to take care of you," she told him bluntly. "Is there anyone else we can call? Grandparents, an aunt or uncle...?"

He shook his head. "Sorry," he said, and she looked as if his lack of family was designed to annoy her.

"Well we'll keep trying," she said with a sigh. "In the meantime, you wait here." She indicated a seat right in front of the desk. "And Greta will keep an eye on you."

Greta behind the desk seemed somewhat busy and harassed already when he glanced over. Good.

He nodded and sat down, and affecting tiredness wasn't exactly difficult right now.

He gave it ten minutes after she'd left, then he walked up to the desk and smiled innocently. "Excuse me, is there a restroom...?" he asked politely.

"Just down the corridor," she told him pointing.

Right. He found it and quickly locked himself in the stall, pulling his coat and a trucker cap from his bag. She'd be looking for a blond kid in a bright blue jumper with an obvious cast. If he covered up, kept his head down and snuck past...she never even glanced at him. And he was outside. He breathed a sigh of relief. There. They had no name, no number – nothing. They'd never be able to come after him. And now he just needed to get everything sorted with the power company and he could go home and sleep.

First things first. He headed to the nearest bank and stood in line to get the money changed into neat ten dollar bills. Now he could give them bills they'd never seen before. Sounded like a million to one chance, but he was giving them back the money he'd stole from them. He didn't want to risk them recognising a bill with a mark or a distinctive crease or something ridiculous like that.

There was a crowd gathered in the power company when he arrived, apparently watching two cops interview a grave man in a suit.

Didn't look like they were quite open for business. He supposed that made sense after a break in, but it didn't exactly suit his purposes. He spotted Mr Lewis standing stiffly off to one side.

He wandered over innocently. "'scuse me, Mr Lewis," he said loudly. "I've got the money here to pay our bill. Will you get the heat switched back on please?"

"This isn't the time," Mr Lewis hissed. "We've got more important things going on right now, you little brat."

"But I've got the money," Rusty objected with a masterful whine. Everyone nearby was turning to stare. "Look," he said, lifting up the bills ostentatiously.

"I don't care," Mr Lewis retorted.

"But...but you have to put the heat back on," he said, his voice loud and trembling. "I don't want to sleep in the cold anymore. And I've got the money. Dad sold my Christmas presents, just like you suggested."

There was a sharp intake of breath from all around them. An audible note of disapproval. Mr Lewis was oblivious. "Oh fuck _off,_ Tiny Tim," he snarled.

Rusty _just _managed to suppress the snort of laughter. Okay. He had to admit, he'd found that pretty funny.

The crowd around them didn't agree and there was a clear mutter of shock and disgust.

"Really, Mr Lewis," the grave man in the suit said, walking hurriedly over. This must be the big boss, Rusty guessed. "I do apologise," he said to Rusty. "I'm afraid we're under a lot of strain."

"I just want to be warm again," he said, trying to sound younger than he really was.

A man stepped forwards from the crowd, clutching a reporter's notebook. "Cutting off heat at Christmas and taking children's presents...is this official policy? Do you have any comments?"

"Well, no, this is obviously a misunderstanding," the boss said, glaring at Mr Lewis. "I assure you, we're not Ebeneezer Scrooge." He turned ostentatiously to Mr Lewis. "Why don't you take this young man over and take his payment and make sure his power goes back on today. And I think a hundred dollar credit on his account might be suitable."

Rusty grinned inside at the look on Mr Lewis' face. Checkmate.

That night he lay on his bed, listening to music, luxuriating in the heat that had finally worked its way through the apartment. He'd taken the pills he'd hidden earlier and the pain had faded to an unremarkable ache. He'd even managed to make himself some bacon sandwiches and a hot chocolate. Warm food, a warm room and tomorrow Danny would be home.

He smiled. Things were looking up.

There was the sound of the front door slamming and his smile faded in an instant. Dad was home. He turned off the music and hid the recorder quickly and lay, still and tense, waiting to see if Dad came in to find him. If he'd thought Dad might come back, he'd never have left the heating on.

He heard things crashing around the living room, heard bottles smashing together, and he dug his fingernails into his palm hard, closed his eyes and _wished. _He really wasn't in a fit state to take a beating right now. And honestly, he didn't think he had a hope in hell of running.

"Boy, get out here," Dad bellowed

Would be worse if Dad had to come find him, he reminded himself, and he slowly stood up and opened the door, walking out into the living room. Dad was sitting on the sofa, a bag tossed across the floor in front of him, clothes and empty bottles spilling out of it wildly.

"Yes, sir?" he said quietly.

Dad stared at him blearily, and he seemed drunker than usual, and generally that meant that either he wouldn't hit Rusty at all or he wouldn't stop. "Wha' happened to your arm?" he demanded.

"I fell," Rusty said shortly. "Sir," he added quickly, because if he could just stay respectful, just stay on Dad's good side, then he should be okay. And he had to be okay, because he was seeing Danny tomorrow, and if Danny thought he'd got beaten up while he was away...it would hurt Danny so much more than it could ever hurt him.

Dad stared at him again, a strange uncertain look in his eyes.

Rusty sighed. "You didn't do it," he assured Dad. "I really fell."

"Course I didn't do it," Dad said, snorting. "Weak little faggot like you could probably break his arm shaving. Now go and make me some dinner, you little bastard."

He nodded, trying not to seem too eager and relieved, and he quickly headed through to the kitchen, picking up a matchbook for the stove as he went. Huh. The Xanadu Casino Hotel, Las Vegas. Sounded liked Dad had a good Christmas. So much for working out of town.

Dad was back. Danny would be back tomorrow. Everything was heading back to normal and he wasn't alone anymore.

Seemed Christmas was finally over.

* * *

_28th December 1978_

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Well," Danny said, shaking his head.

"Yeah," Rusty agreed tiredly.

One hell of a week.

"You're going to have to go back and get that taken off," Danny pointed out, nodding at the cast. "And this time they're gonna be suspicious."

A slight pause and Rusty shrugged uncomfortably.

He thought for a second and sighed. "Dad's old toolbox is in the hall cupboard," he said resignedly. "We can check it for anything that might cut through it."

Rusty looked at him. "Thought you'd tell me no."

"I don't want you doing it yourself," he explained simply.

"Mmm." Rusty grinned. "You don't think I should be more worried about letting you loose on me with a tool of any kind?"

Oh, that was..."I'm not that bad," he protested.

"Uh huh. Remember when I tried to show you how to change a fuse?" Rusty asked, eyebrow raised.

He winced. "That was different." It hadn't been a saw for a start. And more importantly, it hadn't been Rusty's arm at stake. "You think I wouldn't be careful?"

"I _know _you'll be careful," Rusty said, and the tease had gone from his voice and Danny smiled. "Think you'll write to her?" Rusty asked after a moment.

He sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Probably not." He didn't even know what he'd say. "She wasn't who I thought she was." The grief was alive in his voice, and Rusty reached across the table and touched his hand lightly. He closed his eyes for a long second and the gesture seemed to ease a tension that he hadn't even known existed. This was what he needed. This right here, with none of the doubt and complication that seemed to exist around everyone else. Rusty made him _whole._

"But it was - " Rusty began quietly.

" - yeah," he nodded. "I don't regret it, exactly."

There was a question in Rusty's eyes, a curiosity, and he smiled. "It's amazing," he said sincerely. "Feels like you're closer than you can imagine in that moment, sharing everything, losing control..." He stopped, seeing the look on Rusty's face. "I'm not exactly selling this to you, am I?"

Rusty grinned and shook his head. "Think I'll stick to cards," he said lightly. "Less complicated."

"Right." Danny's lips twitched. He figured in a couple of years, he'd remind Rusty he'd said that. "Mom said she didn't mind if you came over for today," he announced.

"You - " Rusty blinked.

He shook his head. "Didn't even need to ask," he said, with a certain degree of pride. Maybe things would be different from now on. Maybe things were changing for the better.

"Huh." Rusty looked at him thoughtfully and he could see the unvoiced worry in his eyes. Rusty didn't want him hurt again.

"Figured we could order pizza and watch TV," he went on. "Don't know about you, but I could do with a quiet day or so."

Rusty nodded. "Sounds good. But first..." he went on, his eyes lighting up as he pulled a handful of brightly coloured markers out of his pocket. "Want to sign my cast?"

He grinned. This could be fun.

* * *

**A/N: And that is finally the end of the Christmas chapter. Hope you enjoyed, please review. **


	44. Growing Together

**A/N: New chapter surprisingly early! In more ways than one...**_**  
**_

_**Timeline:**_

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine  
**

**4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**6. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**7. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**11. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**12. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**15. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**19. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**20. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**24. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**25. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**26. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**27. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

Class dragged on for what seemed like hours and Rusty was absolutely bored with George Washington. He didn't like history. It all seemed so far away and he didn't see the point of it. They'd listened to the story and they'd spent the rest of the morning painting a big picture of a cherry tree, which was sort of spoiled when Brady accidentally kicked the paint tub over.

There was pink on the toes of Rusty's shoes. He hoped Dad never noticed.

The bell rang for recess and he grabbed his bag and quickly ran down the stairs and out into the playground, looking for Danny as he had every day for the past two months. In a small corner of his mind he marvelled again at just how much brighter he felt each and every morning now he knew he'd be seeing Danny.

As usual Danny was waiting for him on the edge of the playground, leaning against a wall. But as he got closer he could see Danny was pale and sweating and that wasn't at all usual.

"You okay?" he asked, frowning.

Danny seemed to have trouble focusing on him, blinking like he was surprised Rusty was there. "Don't feel great," he muttered.

"Sit down," Rusty instructed him anxiously, taking a step closer and hovering at his elbow.

With a stifled moan, Danny slumped to the ground.

"You feel like you're going to throw up?" Rusty asked.

Danny shrugged uncomfortably. "Don't know," he said shortly.

He sighed. Danny looked exhausted and feverish. "You should be at home," he said softly. "In bed."

"Can't," Danny told him, shaking his head with an effort. "I _can't _be sick."

"I don't think you have a choice," Rusty said, grimacing. "You should go to the office."

Danny shook his head again. "If Mom's called, she'll have to leave work to look after me. She'll be mad. She hates it when I'm sick."

He found himself nodding. The office had sent for Dad a couple of times when they'd thought he was too beat up to be at school. Dad had been...mad. He could understand Danny's dread. And yet - "You think you can make it through the rest of the day?" He doubted it. He thought that any teacher who saw Danny right now would probably send him straight home, and that was if Danny was physically capable of walking back to class.

"I have to," Danny said, and he looked the picture of misery. He dropped his head into his hands and swallowed convulsively. "Rusty..."

"Come on," Rusty said quickly, standing back to let Danny stand up, and he thought he should be reaching out a hand to held Danny up, thought Danny would want him to, but the moment passed and he did nothing. Danny was on his feet and Rusty led him quickly back into the building and the nearest restroom, and he waited outside the stall as Danny retched.

"Here," he said, passing Danny a cold compress. "Put it against your neck. You'll feel better."

Danny smiled at him weakly before turning back to the toilet.

Rusty tore a piece of paper out of his jotter, quickly fashioned it into a cone and filled it from the drinking fountain. "Here," he said again, and Danny took it and sipped from it slowly.

"You can't go back to class," he told Danny. There was just no way that was going to work. Danny should be at home, tucked up in bed, taken care of. Anything else simply wasn't right.

Danny flushed the toilet and stumbled to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What else can I do?"

What else could they do? He took a deep breath. Okay. They had to get Danny out of school and home without anyone objecting and without the need to involve Danny's Mom. "I've got it covered," he said, working on sounding more confident than he really was. He reached into his bag and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. "Got this back a couple of months ago," he explained. "Miss Harris saw I wasn't doing good and sent me to the office, and they gave me a note excusing me from class for the rest of the day. Only it wasn't dated so I didn't hand it in, cos I figured it might come in handy some day."

"It's got your name on it," Danny pointed out, stifling a painful-sounding cough.

"It's in pencil," he answered. "I've got an eraser. I can change it." He looked at Danny carefully. "You think - "

" - yes," Danny nodded, and he still looked pale but maybe a little less so.

They found themselves a little space at the end of the corridor, and they weren't supposed to be inside right now, but no one was around at least.

"Sip your water and try not to move around too much," he told Danny. "Close your eyes, if it helps." It helped him sometimes, when he'd hit his head too hard.

He stared down at the paper in front of him, and erasing his name was no problem, but putting in Danny's? His writing was far too childish. Someone would notice.

All the letters in Danny's name were in that note. If he could just copy each one exactly, no one would be able to tell. He took his jotter out and carefully started sketching out the letters one at a time. Had to be perfect.

Took five minutes before he was satisfied with his practice attempts, and when he glanced up it looked like Danny had dozed off against the door. He sighed and started working on the actual note.

"Woah, he doesn't look good," Doug Fletcher commented, coming round the corner.

Rusty stood up instinctively, moving between Doug and Danny. "He's fine," he answered shortly.

"He looks sick," Doug said, craning his neck.

He raised his chin. "I'm taking care of it." He glanced down at the note in his hand. It was all done and he thought it would pass a casual inspection at least. Right. Doug was in Danny's class. "You mind putting this on your teacher's desk when you go back in?" he asked, holding the note out. "Don't let anyone see you."

Doug looked doubtful. "I don't know..."

Not like he'd been expecting Doug to help for nothing anyway. He had almost three dollars in his pocket and he didn't even stop to consider that he'd been planning on using it for food this weekend. "Two dollars," he offered. They'd need the rest for the bus back to Danny's.

"Really?" Doug's eyes gleamed. "Have you got it now?"

Rusty nodded, digging into his pocket and holding out the cash.

"Well, okay then," Doug agreed, taking the note and making to grab the cash.

Rusty's fist closed around it. "If you 'forget' to put the note on the desk, then Freddy might just find out who it was got gum on his pants."

Doug swallowed. "Oh. Right. Sure thing, Rusty."

Huh. He wondered to himself as Doug scampered away. Two months ago, no one in school knew who he was. Now it seemed like everyone knew his name. Now he had a name that was actually _his. _His eyes flickered over to Danny and he wondered if he'd ever understand.

With a sigh he settled down, sitting against the wall next to Danny. Only things down here were the music room, the gymnasium and a couple of store cupboards and none of them should be in use next period. They'd be fine hiding out here until after recess.

A few minutes later the bell rang and Danny woke with a start, looking round wildly, and when he saw Rusty sitting next to him he calmed down instantly. "Sorry," he said. "Didn't sleep last night."

Rusty nodded. "I'm taking you home now. Just give it five minutes so everyone will be in class."

Danny's brow furrowed. "The note - "

" - taken care of," he said instantly, and he was ready to explain, but Danny had already relaxed, like he didn't doubt Rusty for a second.

Once again, he was overwhelmed with confusion and wonder.

Sneaking back to Danny's proved to be easy enough. They didn't see a single person on their way out of school, and the bus driver didn't give them a second glance. Better yet, neither of Danny's parents were home, meaning that they could head straight upstairs and Danny got changed into his pyjamas and slipped into bed, coughing harshly while Rusty fetched him a glass of water.

"Thanks," Danny murmured, and a look of guilt crossed his face. "You should go back to school."

Rusty stared. "Well, that's not gonna happen."

"There was only one note, right?" Danny persisted. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think. You're going to get in trouble."

He grinned. "I'm always in trouble," he said with perfect truth, and he saw the wince of understanding cross Danny's face. "I'm used to it," he said gently. "It'll be fine. I want to stay."

He wanted to stay and Danny didn't want to be alone, and as Danny settled down to sleep, his eyes fluttered open again and again, like he couldn't quite believe that Rusty was there.

Danny dozed through the afternoon and Rusty sat on the chair beside his bed and watched him sleep. Didn't seem as thought Danny was too sick, least Rusty didn't think so, but he was obviously miserable and uncomfortable, coughing in his sleep and kicking off the bed clothes, his face red and flushed.

Frowning, he went and fetched a damp flannel from the bathroom and gently laid it over Danny's forehead, his hand on the flannel, not touching Danny's skin, not even smoothing Danny's hair away from his face, and even then, as he reached out, he felt a surge of panic and shame and memory rose up in his mind.

(_"Don't touch me," Mom screamed, her voice harsh and grating. "Disgusting...worthless...filthy little _thing._")_

He shivered and sat back in the chair, his eyes fixed on Danny's face. It wasn't that he thought Danny would react like that. Danny had held his hand before, comforted him when he'd been hurting, but that had been Danny reaching out to him. The permission was clear and that made it okay, he supposed. But for him to...it was just never going to happen. He didn't even fully understand the reasons, he just knew it was wrong. And he could no more try than he could grow wings and fly away.

Still, he could tuck the blanket around Danny's shoulders when he shivered and he could softly tell Danny the story of George Washington versus nature that Miss Harris had told them that morning, adding in that he figured honestly was never the answer – it was always better not to get caught, and if you were going to get caught it was better to run or hide. Lying was the last resort and even that was better than just standing there and admitting it like an idiot.

"But then," he added. "I've never really had any urge to attack trees."

"You've never had an axe," Danny answered weakly.

Rusty cocked his head to one side. "You think if I did my first thought would be to go after plants?"

"Better 'n people," Danny nodded.

"Suppose," he said doubtfully.

Danny's face lost colour and he swallowed hard and made as if to stand up, but he wasn't in time and he threw up over himself and the bed helplessly. "Sorry," he said wretchedly, sounding close to tears. "'m sorry. Sorry. I can - "

" - shhh," Rusty soothed gently. "'s alright, Danny. I can take care of it. C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up, huh?"

He led Danny through to the bathroom and ran a bath while Danny got undressed. Then, while Danny soaked, he found a fresh pair of pyjamas from the drawer and took them through to the bathroom.

"Don't fall asleep in there," he warned Danny lightly, and Danny nodded, falling into another coughing fit.

He held out a towel and started in surprise as Danny leaned against him while he got dried and dressed. It felt strange, but a good sort of strange. Like Danny needed him, at least for now, at least a little.

Once he'd got Danny settled on the sofa he set about stripping the bedclothes. He paused, chewing on his lip, because he'd been thinking they'd have to do without, but actually these weren't the same sheets that had been on Danny's bed the first time he'd been over. So maybe... "Do you have more than one set of sheets?" he asked.

Danny raised his head slightly and nodded, looking surprised. "Yeah. In the linen cupboard in the hall."

Linen cupboard. He went exploring and he found a cupboard full of sheets and soft towels and thick comforters, all smelling fresh and clean. He shook his head in wonderment. Oh, he could fall asleep in here really easily.

He managed to find some sheets and stuff without any difficulty and he made up the bed again, dumping the soiled things on top of the pyjamas.

Danny looked more awake and very upset. "Rusty, you shouldn't have...you shouldn't _have _to. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said quietly. He didn't mind. Not even for a second. "I can take care of you."

"Mom's going to be angry," Danny said softly, staring at the dirty laundry. "She was last time. She wouldn't stop shouting. Called me disgusting and said I'd just done it to make more work for her."

It had been an accident, and Rusty felt a surge of anger towards Danny's Mom. Wasn't as if Danny had wanted to. Everyone got sick sometimes and he knew how difficult it was to deal with the anger when you were sick, when moving became impossible and you were more vulnerable than usual and all there was left was to curl up and hope that you survived. He wanted to protect Danny from that, for all the times he hadn't been there to protect Danny in the past.

"Where's the laundrette round here?" he asked. Maybe he could get everything washed and back before Danny's mother ever found out.

"We got a washing machine," Danny told him foggily.

Even better. He pulled the covers back on the bed and waited until Danny was safely tucked up. "Get some more rest," he told Danny gently. "I'll take care of it."

"Rusty, I...this is..." Danny struggled to say what he wanted to, but Rusty recognised the look in his eyes. The wonder and the uncertainty.

He smiled and shook his head. "I'll take care of it," he said again.

The washing machine was in a little room off the kitchen. Easy enough to find but it looked more like something from a sci fi flick than he was used to.

This shouldn't be that hard. He was the one that took care of the laundry since Mom had got banned from the laundrette six months back. Only the machines there were easy. You put in laundry, detergent and quarters, closed the door and the machine did the rest. This had buttons and two dials with numbers and words that he wasn't quite sure of.

He took a deep breath. He had to get this taken care of. Danny was in no shape to do it and the most important thing was Danny's Mom didn't find out. She'd punish Danny, and times and ways _he'd_ been punished played through his head. Not if he could help it.

He stuffed the bedclothes and the pyjamas into the washing machine, found the detergent and poured in half a cup. Didn't look like there was anywhere to put in quarters and that made sense, he supposed. Probably he just had to turn the files and press the buttons. He bit his lip and shrugged. Hotter had to be better, didn't it? Hot water got him cleaner anyhow. He set it as high as it could go, pressed all the buttons, shut the door and listened, pleased, as it started to whir and bubble.

Okay. He'd come down and check on that later. In the meantime...he grabbed a plastic bowl from a shelf, poured a glass of water and ran back to Danny, narrowly avoiding tripping on the stairs.

"I'm back," he announced, and Danny was in the middle of another coughing fit. Grimacing, he hurried over, hovering by the bed and holding out the water, and Danny took the glass and drank it gratefully, and when Rusty moved to take it away, Danny grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

Huh. Not quite sure what to do, but remembering the way Danny touched him, he brushed his thumb over Danny's knuckles and Danny squeezed his hand a little tighter. He hoped that right now he could give Danny what he needed.

"Sounds painful," he said as Danny stopped coughing.

Danny nodded fractionally. "Yeah," he agreed.

"You want some tyelnol or something?" he suggested.

"Tylenol," Danny corrected. "And there's some cough syrup in the bathroom in Mom and Dad's room."

Huh. Cough...syrup. He looked blankly at Danny.

Danny sighed. "'s medicine. For coughs and sore throats and stuff like that. It'll make me feel better."

"I'll try find some," he promised quickly, leaving the room.

"It's pink," Danny called after him.

He hesitated in the hallway. He'd never been in Danny's parents room before and he wasn't exactly comfortable going there now. Some of the worst beatings he'd ever got were for being caught where he wasn't supposed to be. Sneaking into adults' territory was dangerous. Mm. Some of the worst beatings were for getting _caught. _He grinned determinedly. This was just more good-kid stuff he had to reject. He'd go where he wanted.

Not being caught would be nice too, mind you.

The bedroom was neat and tidy and he barely glanced round, hurrying to the bathroom. There was a large white cabinet that was full of bottles and tubes. Huh. Alright then. Something pink. He scanned the shelves hopefully and found the bottle he was looking for. Definitely pink. He grabbed some Tylenol as well.

"You were squinting at the light earlier," he explained when Danny frowned at it. "Your head hurts, right?"

Danny nodded slowly. "Yeah. Okay." He accepted the medicine. "You don't need to run round after me you know."

He felt a stab of hurt. "Alright," he said slowly.

"I didn't mean..." Danny started. "You shouldn't have to fetch me things, that's all. And you certainly shouldn't have to clean up after me."

"Uh huh." He perched on the edge of the bed and looked at Danny curiously. "You remember three weeks ago when Mom threw the shoe at me and my nose wouldn't stop bleeding?"

Danny's eyes darkened momentarily but he nodded. "It's not - "

" - you spent the rest of the afternoon knee deep in bloody tissues," he reminded Danny. "I got blood all over your towels. I got blood all over _you._"

"It's not - " Danny tried to protest again.

Rusty interrupted. " - oh, it's the same thing," he said with a smile that faded almost immediately. "Did you mind?"

"No," Danny said instantly, his eyes still foggy. "Of course not."

He nodded and stood up abruptly, turning away from Danny awkwardly. "It's you, Danny," he said softly. "You really think I mind?"

"No," Danny said after a second. "Oh, Rusty - "

" - don't think you should eat anything just yet," he interrupted quickly, turning back to smile brightly at Danny. "You want to get some more sleep?"

Danny shook his head emphatically, even though he looked exhausted.

"Okay," Rusty said, looking round and picking up a book that had been left abandoned on the floor by Danny's desk. "The Little Princess?" he read, and glanced at Danny, amused.

Danny shrugged. "I didn't choose it."

"Yeah," Rusty absent mindedly put it back on the bookcase and went looking for something else. He blinked. "What's a hobbit?" he asked curiously.

"Dunno," Danny told him. "Dad gave it to me for my birthday years back. He said it had been his favourite book when he was a kid and he wanted to read it to me."

Danny didn't need to tell him the rest. In the last two months Rusty had seen plenty examples of things Danny's father told him he was going to do.

S'ppose that was one thing you could say about Dad. He kept his promises.

Book in hand, he settled down on the chair beside the bed and started to read. "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. "

He read with growing enthusiasm, making up any words he wasn't sure of, putting on different voices for hobbits and dwarves and wizards, making Danny laugh.

At the end of a chapter he ran downstairs again, fetching more water and a little juice, and grabbing some bread and butter for himself. The washing machine had finished and he smuggled the laundry upstairs, laying it out in Danny's bathroom to dry.

Huh. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but the pyjamas looked a little...smaller...than they had before. And the sheets seemed to be more of a greyish blue.

He bit his lip. Okay, this wasn't something he could deal with right now. Maybe when it had dried off, it would look better.

He went back to Danny and Danny smiled at him as he carried on reading.

Night was falling and Danny was close to dozing off when Rusty heard the front door slam open. He stopped reading immediately, dropping the book to the ground. Beside him, Danny had tensed up, his eyes wide, staring at the door.

"Don't let her come in," he begged Rusty wildly. "_Please_, Rusty."

The fear in Danny's voice was painful and Rusty reacted to it immediately, jumping to his feet and hauling the dresser in front of the door slowly, pulling with all his strength.

"There," he said, when the door was well and truly blocked. "She can't get in, I promise." But when he looked round, Danny was huddled under the blankets, hunched and turned away. "You're safe," he said softly.

Danny shuffled over slightly, looking round at him with a hopeful plea.

Rusty struggled for a second before lying down beside him.

He listened for a long, long moment, but it didn't seem like Danny's mother was trying to come in. And that was good; he didn't want her anywhere near Danny when he was like this. Vulnerable. _Frightened. _Anything could happen, and Rusty wouldn't be able to stop her.

Danny said that his parents didn't hit him, but Rusty knew it wasn't that straightforward. Danny's parents _hadn't _hit him. There was a difference. The sun rose every morning, two plus two equals four...adults hit. He knew that. Danny didn't.

Even adults who seemed nice couldn't be trusted. Like Miss Thorpe, his kindergarten teacher. She'd been..._nice._ She'd told him once his painting of a cat was lovely, she read the class stories and she gave the other kids cookies when they cried. But one day, just before the year ended, Jay had thrown a carton of milk at him and he'd got absolutely soaked, and Miss Thorpe had taken him into the restroom, given him some fresh clothes and told him to get changed. She didn't understand that he couldn't. He'd been bad the night before and his punishment was still painful and obvious and he wasn't allowed to let anyone see. Dad would hurt him if he let anyone see, and he'd be taken _away._ Miss Thorpe didn't understand that, though, and she spoke to him gently for a while before shouting at him, shaking him when he still refused.

She made to pull his sweater over his head and, desperate, terrified, he snapped. "Fuck off, bitch!" he screamed.

She slapped him backhanded, knocking him off his feet, and his head slammed into the sink as he fell.

Miss Thorpe had just stared at him blankly as he got to his feet painfully, and then, looking strangely panicked, she'd grabbed a damp paper towel and lunged towards him. He flinched away, his arms flying up to try and protect his head. Miss Thorpe froze, and then thrust the paper towels at him. "Get yourself cleaned up," she said quietly, and she walked away and left him.

The lump on his head throbbed painfully for the rest of the day and he sat at the back of the classroom, shaken and shaking, the smell of souring milk making his aching head spin.

Miss Thorpe never looked at him again.

Adults hit and hurt and he was powerless to stop them.

But somehow, he would protect Danny. He _had _to. Danny was everything he wanted, and Rusty never, ever wanted him hurt.

Danny looked up at him, his eyes shining with emotions Rusty couldn't even put a name to, let alone understand. "No one's ever looked at me the way you look at me."

He didn't say anything. He didn't know what he should be saying.

It was strange, in a way. Anyone else got this close to him and he felt threatened and frightened. With Danny, that just didn't happen. Somehow, even when Danny touched him, it wasn't bad, and he didn't like _anyone _touching him.

It didn't make sense. Danny might not be an adult, but kids could hit too. Danny was older than him. Bigger. Stronger. If Danny wanted to, he could mess Rusty up bad. He could hurt him.

But Danny didn't want to. And, somehow, Rusty knew that he never would.

"Thanks, Rus'," Danny said in a whisper, as he drifted off to sleep.

His lips quirked. "First you give me a nickname then you give me a nickname of the nickname?"

He didn't mind though. He liked the way the name sounded.

And when Danny sighed in his sleep and reached out and grabbed his hand...he didn't mind that either.

* * *

Danny woke up the next morning feeling much better and with Rusty lying beside him. For a long moment he just lay still, watching Rusty sleep and marvelling at the day before. Up until now, he didn't know how alone he'd felt before. Rusty had looked after him, had cared for him and it felt...magical.

"Hey," Rusty said sleepily, turning his head and smiling up at Danny. "I shrank your pyjamas in the wash."

He grinned. "Well, maybe they'll fit you now," he suggested. Be worth hanging on to them if that was the case.

"Uh huh." Rusty propped himself up on one elbow and looked Danny over carefully. "How you feeling?"

"I feel good," Danny said, without even thinking about it.

Rusty raised an eyebrow. "You still look like - "

" - thanks," Danny interrupted, shaking his head, amused. Really, he hadn't been talking physically. "I didn't say I was planning on getting up anytime soon."

He hadn't. And they didn't.

Eventually, Mom was bound to come check on him, and he didn't think that dresser would keep her out, and on Monday they'd have to go back to school and Rusty would need to explain why he'd left school, but that didn't matter right now.

Right now they lay on his bed and played, and as Batman and Zorro outwitted the Legion of Evil Breakfast Cereal Mascots, Danny felt safe and happy and cared for.

He wasn't alone. And he never wanted to be alone again.

* * *

**Thanks for reading, please review.**


	45. All Fun and Games

**A/N: Been a while since I updated this. And here is Halloween fic which is a few days late, but in my defence I didn't start writing it until Wednesday. So there.**

_**Timeline:**_

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine  
**

**4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**6. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**7. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**11. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**12. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**15. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**19. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**20. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**24. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**25. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
**

**26. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**27. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**28. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

Danny watched with carefully hidden impatience as Leo inspected the silverware like he was expecting them to have suddenly turned to solid gold.

"Very nice," Leo said at last. "How does fifty dollars sound?"

"It took us a lot of effort to get them," he countered, leaning back against the bar. "So let's say eighty."

"Eighty, huh?" Leo smirked. "You sure learn fast, kid. Alright, let's say sixty five."

"Done," he agreed and Leo counted out the money agonisingly slowly.

"So, where's Rusty today?" Leo asked idly.

"He's sick," Danny answered with a casualness that came from seven years of practice.

"Oh, that's too bad," Leo said sympathetically. "He was sick last month too, wasn't he?" He laughed shortly. "Maybe if he didn't keep trying to eat his own weight in candy, am I right?"

Danny smiled. "Right."

Leo nodded, and the money was in his hand, and he was still making conversation. "You must be looking forward to Halloween."

"Of course," he said easily. Truthfully, he didn't care, and he didn't think Rusty did either. They had much more important things to worry about right now. Having fun was way down his list of priorities.

Leo handed over the money and Danny took it thankfully.

"You've been bringing a lot of stuff to me lately," Leo commented as Danny was turning to leave. "You needing cash or something?"

He tensed. He didn't want to have this conversation. Not with anyone. "Yeah. Well. You know how it is," he offered with a disarming shrug.

Leo smiled sympathetically. "Yeah. I remember being a kid. Money never seemed to stretch far enough." He hesitated. "Look, I shouldn't do this, but a client of mine wants a certain clock. Apparently it's in the old theatre in town. My usual guy isn't available...there's another couple of guys I'd normally ask but if you're interested, I could give it to you instead."

Huh. The old theatre? He knew it well, he'd been dragged there several times as a kid. Immediately the ghost of a plan was alive in his head. "What's the clock look like?" he asked.

With a smile, Leo dug a couple of sketches out of his pocket. A gold carriage clock with all the clockwork showing and little gold horses balanced around the edges. "It's kept upstairs," Leo told him. "Apparently it's all under dustsheets now, but it's the getting in that would be the problem. It's locked up tight and well guarded at night."

The edges of the plan grew a little clearer. "Mmm," he said thoughtfully, wondering. Was it worth the risk? They hadn't tried anything this big since...

"Your cut would be five hundred," Leo said persuasively.

He smiled charmingly. "We'll need to talk it over. I'll let you know."

Right now he needed to get home to Rusty.

* * *

Mom's car was outside when he got home. He sighed. She'd been away since Friday. He had to admit, he'd been hoping...

The living room door was open when he came in, and he paused in the door way, seeing Mom sitting there with her book. "Hello, Mom," he said softly.

She didn't look round. But her knuckles were white where she was holding the book, and he knew she'd heard him. She just wasn't answering him. God. How long could she really keep this up?

"I'm just going upstairs," he said steadily, and he waited a few seconds for the acknowledgement that never came. "I'll see you later."

When he got upstairs, Rusty was still lying in his bed, the covers pulled up to his head.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently reached out and put his hand on Rusty's shoulder. He wasn't really intending to wake him, he just wanted the contact, but Rusty stirred a second later, the smile pulling painfully at the bruises around his mouth.

"You see Leo?" he asked with sleepy hoarseness.

Danny swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. Sixty five dollars. I'll put it in the bank tomorrow." They needed more though. If they were going to leave next year, they'd need enough for an apartment, for college tuition, for bills and food and books, and other things that he couldn't even think of. This was the most important thing he'd ever done in his life, and he couldn't afford to screw it up.

Rusty blinked up at him thoughtfully. "Alright. What's wrong?"

He gave a half-grin. "Can't hide anything from you."

"Why would you even want to?" Rusty returned immediately, struggling to sit up with a soft hiss of pain, his arm wrapped around his ribs.

"Easy," Danny said softly, reaching out and helping him settle against the pillows. "Leo wants someone to steal a clock from the old theatre for him. He's willing to pay five hundred."

"Huh," Rusty regarded him for a long moment. "And you know how we could get it," he stated.

"I know how we could get it," he agreed.

"So what's the problem?" Rusty asked.

He sighed and pulled himself up onto the bed beside Rusty, lying close beside him. "You really think we should? If we get caught - "

" - since when do we worry about getting caught?" Rusty interrupted lightly.

Since they _had _been caught. Since he'd watched Rusty spend a night in a police cell. Since they were still dealing with the consequences of that. He reached out and very, very lightly brushed his thumb over the bruises on Rusty's lip. "If we get caught," he repeated in a whisper.

Rusty reached up and took his hand. "We won't," he promised, looking him straight in the eye.

They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Danny sighed softly. "We won't," he agreed, and he smiled brilliantly. "Alright. First, we have to organise a party."

* * *

Lunchtime the next day, they slid into the table opposite Mike and David. "So," Danny said brightly, ignoring the way Mike's eyes lingered on Rusty's bruises. "We hear there's a problem with the Halloween party this year."

Mike and David exchanged a long look. "It's Julian," Mike explained gloomily. "He's taken over all the organisation, and it sounds like it's going to be _awful."_

"It's all planned out to the last second," David added. "And he was talking about having dancing lessons and balloons and jello and silly hats."

"I like jello," Rusty said, to no one in particular.

"Sounds like a kids party," Danny commented. "Sounds like people will be leaving early."

"And you like silly hats," Rusty added.

Danny didn't even glance at him. Not for a second.

"It's going to be awful," Mike said again. "It's just...embarrassing."

"That's about what we heard," Rusty agreed, leaning forwards across the table, just subtle enough that he looked like he was trying to be discreet, just obvious enough that everyone in the tables around them started listening in. "So we were thinking - "

" - we were _thinking,_" Danny joined in. "That maybe someone ought to organise a different party."

"An alternative party," Rusty nodded. "Someplace outside of school."

"Someplace different," Danny suggested. "Someplace we can make - "

" - _scary,_" they said in unison.

"Sounds brilliant," Gina said from the next table, her eyes shining.

"Count us in," the Hulk rumbled from behind them. "I never wanted to go to the stupid school party anyway."

Mike was gazing at them with a mix of amusement and resignation. "Alright then. What do you need?"

* * *

Getting the use of the old theatre for a Halloween party was easy enough in the end. They just took a group of kids along to see the Mrs Lauriston, the owner, made the right noises about good for the community, and all proceeds going to charity, and they had the run of the ground floor. Of course, they'd be heavily supervised, and the upper levels, where the clock would be, were all locked off. But locks were no problem, and with the right distraction, no one would notice them sneaking off.

And they were working on a lot of distractions. He just hoped it would be enough.

"Penny for your thoughts," a voice said behind him, and when he turned round he found himself looking at a seven-foot tall demon.

"Fuck!" He nearly jumped out of his skin.

Rusty appeared from behind it, grinning.

He glared. "Can't you be serious?" he asked, regretting it in an instant.

For a second, Rusty just looked at him, his lips pursed. Then he nodded slowly. "Locks on the back staircase shouldn't be a problem," he said neutrally "I brought the glass cutter...you said everything's covered in dustsheets so as long as we don't make any noise the theft shouldn't be discovered for a few days at least. We just need the right moment of distraction. Which is where Pazuzu here comes in."

"You couldn't have picked something from a better movie?" Danny asked, the lightness a sort of apology.

Rusty grinned. "I'm still trying to figure out how we can have an invasion of locusts."

"We want people distracted," Danny warned. "Not terrified."

"It's Halloween," Rusty pointed out. "Terrified is fun." He leaned the mannequin down on the floor, wincing slightly as he did, his ribs still hurting him. He looked at Danny thoughtfully. "We got music, we got a ton of food, we got things that go bump in the night and we've got a brilliantly stupid plan on top of all that. Why aren't you having fun right now?"

He sighed. "Don't you think we have more important things to worry about? In the circumstances?"

"In the circumstances," Rusty repeated, an uncertain flicker in his eyes. "You having second thoughts? Because - "

" - _no,_" Danny interrupted with a savage intensity that meant nothing less than _never. "'_s just...this is important. We're only going to get one shot. And we've got less than a year." Less than a year to turn their life around. And in that time they still had to go to school, they still had to earn enough to live on, they still had to deal with everything Rusty's Dad did. "It feels like we shouldn't be wasting time - "

" - having fun?" Rusty asked, his head tilted to one side.

Danny hesitated. That wasn't exactly what he'd meant, was it?

"Danny, this whole plan relies on people having fun," Rusty pointed out persuasively. "We have to organise a party, we ought to make it the best party we can."

He looked straight at Rusty and he could see the confidence and the determination, and beneath that the worry for him.

"I'm just tired," he said, with a brief smile, in answer to the question Rusty hadn't asked.

"Uh huh." Rusty's eyes called him a liar. "Way I see it, we got one chance to scare all our classmates to death. And I intend to take it."

In spite of himself he found himself grinning. "And that's the true meaning of Halloween, huh?"

"That and candy," Rusty nodded seriously.

Danny glanced over the the bags of chocolate, taffy and candy apples Brady had brought by. "Think he have enough," he said, before catching sight of the look on Rusty's face. "Huh. Okay, we'll get more."

He reached out and grabbed the demon's arms. "Where do you want this thing anyway?"

Rusty shrugged. "Was thinking at the buffet table."

"Mmm." Danny looked at the demon for a long second, seized with a sudden impulse. "Think we could - "

" - oh, I'm sure we could," Rusty caught on instantly, his eyes sparkling with an answering mischief.

"We got Mike working on the sound recording," he said thoughtfully, as they carried it over, him doing his best to subtly take most of the weight. "And Ami's doing the slides."

"I called in some favours and we got enough people bringing in food," Rusty added. "And we got Doug, Unity, Gina and the football team working on spreading word of mouth."

Danny nodded, hefting the demon mannequin into the place at the head of the table. "How about drink?"

Rusty shrugged, laying the thing's claws down on the table. "Gonna need some wire or something," he commented.

"I saw some in the back," Danny remembered.

"I gotta few crates of soda," Rusty told him. "And apparently David's Mom is going to make a barrel of punch."

"We should get something to spike it with," Danny commented thoughtfully. "People will expect - "

" - no," Rusty said firmly.

Danny raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No," Rusty repeated. "There's going to be a bunch of kids from my class coming. We're not gonna let fourteen year olds drink."

Danny looked at him silently.

"We're not gonna let any _other _fourteen year olds drink," Rusty suggested instead. "I'll go get that wire."

"We're going to need costumes," Danny said as Rusty disappeared.

"Taken care of," Rusty called back from somewhere in the darkness. "Stopped by the costume shop and picked up a few things."

"Uh huh." Danny squinted after him, lost in deep suspicion. "Am I gonna like this costume?"

"It has a false moustache," Rusty told him cheerfully, re-emerging with a ball of clear wire. "You're gonna love it."

* * *

Actually, it did look pretty good. He looked in the full length mirror in one of the old dressing rooms. Elegant looking evening dress beneath a swirling dark red cloak, a pencil-thin moustache and a discreet pair of red velvet horns. As embodiments of evil went, he was looking _good._

They'd decided not to head home to change. He didn't want to face Mom again at his place and Rusty's place...well, that was just a non starter.

Talking of Rusty...He turned to see how he was getting on and found him applying the last touches of face paint, which had the handy side-effect of completely covering the bruises. He was dressed in black, in an outfit that showed through the torn, ragged grey sheet he'd draped himself in. His hair was plastered to his head and looked wet to touch, and his face was white with a ghastly bluish tinge with dark circles around his eyes. He looked dead. Danny resisted the urge to shudder.

"Ghost?" he asked.

"Spectre," Rusty corrected. "Drowned spectre."

Danny pursed his lips. "That different from a ghost?"

Rusty looked at him. "Maybe now you've seen what you look like in a moustache you'll manage to grow one of your own."

He scowled. "Remember the summer? What would you call that?"

"A patch of fuzz," Rusty answered promptly, and he laughed.

A scream rang out and the turned to gaze at the door.

"Guess our first guests have arrived," Rusty remarked.

"Guess so," he agreed, and they wandered out towards the stage.

Trish, Louise and Helen were standing gathered at the entrance, dressed like a gaggle of mini-skirted witches, giggling nervously. "I felt something breathing on my neck as we were coming down the hallway there!" Helen exclaimed.

"I felt it too," Trish insisted.

"Really," Danny said nonchalantly. "Well, they say this old place is haunted. Why don't you girls come in and have a drink?"

"You're lying," Helen said uncertainly. "You must have done it somehow."

He smiled, trying to look as devil-like as possible. "Now, would we do a thing like that?"

There was a rumble of thunder from above them. With Mike's help they'd programmed the sound system to play a number of creepy effects at random intervals. Judging by the way the girls jumped, it was quite effective. Rusty grinned.

And then they turned the corner, and they caught sight of the stage with dozens of candles flickering away, and the demon sitting at the head of the table, staring straight ahead, its sharp teeth gleaming in the low light.

Louise screamed and jumped a foot in the air, clutching at his arm.

He caught Rusty's eye and smiled. Okay. Even with Mrs Lauriston still lurking between them and the stairs, this was shaping up to be a fun sort of evening.

* * *

A couple of hours later and the party was in full swing. A lot of their little surprises had already been discovered...the werewolf masks hanging from the wall on the way to the restrooms like grizzly trophies, the series of mirrors concealed among the curtains, catching the reflections of fake skeletons that made it look like they were all being watched, the creepy laughing jack-in-the-box that Uncle Harold had given him years ago, and Dad had put away in the attic as soon as Christmas was over...Enough that people were properly scared, and then they had music playing over the tannoy and people were talking and laughing and dancing. By the looks of things, if college didn't work out, they could probably start a party planning business instead.

Buzz Fairley shuffled up to him in what was probably supposed to be a surreptitious manner. "Danny."

"Buzz," Danny responded, with a politeness that sounded forced to his ears. No matter what the reasons, some things were impossible to forgive. And hitting Rusty was one of them.

But Buzz didn't seem to notice or react, just narrowing his eyes and whispering _"Blue moon._"

Of course. Danny nodded and quietly produced the bottle from nowhere and poured a generous measure into Buzz's waiting glass.

Rusty was right, this was way better than just adding it into the punch. Gave all the kids who wanted to drink a bit of a thrill and a sense of danger. Plus it meant that they, and a few others whose judgement they trusted, could decide who should be drinking.

They might be encouraging underage drinking, but damnit, it was going to be _responsible _underage drinking

"Thanks," Buzz said quietly, almost drowned out beneath a bloodcurdling scream that cut through the sound of Blondie nicely. Mike was having way too much fun with the sound effects.

With a sigh he wandered along the edge of the dancefloor, ignoring several looks inviting him to come do some dancing and maybe a little more. Nice though that thought normally was, it wasn't what he was in the mood for tonight.

"Hi, Danny."

And there was why. "Hi, Pat." He turned and smiled at her, and managed to resist the urge to apologise all over again. She looked good. She was dressed as a vampire, in a long, old-fashioned white dress, rose petals twisted into her short brown hair.

"How've you been?" he asked, like he didn't see her in class most days.

"Good," she said with a bright smile. "I've been good."

"Oh, that's...good," he said, wincing a little at how awkward he sounded. "You enjoying the party?"

"Oh, yes," she said, smiling. "I love the decorations."

"Thanks," he said. He took a deep breath. "Do you want to - "

"I got you a drink, Patricia," a voice said, and Danny turned to see a tall guy who must be at least eighteen glaring at him and holding a glass out to Pat.

"Thanks, James," she said, smiling up at the guy in a way that made Danny's heart ache. "Oh, this is Danny," she added, like she'd suddenly remembered, like he was an afterthought. "Danny, this is James."

"Right." At the mention of his name, James glared at him even more, and honestly, it wasn't even like Danny could blame him. "Let's go find some food, okay?"

"Sure thing," she agreed, running her hand through her hair. "I'll see you later Danny, okay?"

"Later," he echoed, as she smiled at him and walked away, James' hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Felt like someone had just kicked him in the gut.

"He's her cousin," Rusty said softly behind him.

"What?" He turned round eagerly to see Rusty leaning against the wall. "You sure?"

Rusty nodded. "Pat told me herself. There was some trouble in his college and he's staying with them a few weeks so she offered to take him along tonight."

He felt ashamed of the relief he felt.

"Plus," Rusty added. "From what I hear, the trouble involved him being caught with a guy in his dorm room, so I don't think you got anything to worry about."

"Really?" Danny's eyes were wide and he tried not to stare after James. "Huh. That's...you'd really never know it from looking at him."

Rusty glanced at him. "What, were you expecting him to be wearing high heels or something?"

"Maybe," he said with a shrug. It was a fancy dress party, after all.

"Mmm," Rusty stood up abruptly. "Think that's about time, don't you? I'll go make sure Mike and Lee are ready."

Caught off guard, Danny frowned after him. There was something... But Rusty was right, after all, and it was time to put their plan into action.

He grabbed the bag from out the dressing room and headed through the back corridor towards the stairs. Mrs Lauriston was still standing by the doorway next to the stairs, glass of punch in hand. He could only hope that she moved when all the fuss started.

A short while later, Rusty appeared behind him. "Two minutes," he said softly.

Danny nodded. "Alright," he whispered back, and surreptitiously he edged closer to the corner to get a good view of the stage. He caught Rusty smiling at him and shrugged. Nothing wrong with wanting to see the show.

The two minutes seemed to last forever. Then, abruptly, the music cut off and the lights went off, plunging the theatre into total darkness. Several people screamed, and Danny grinned to himself. This was only the beginning.

"Everyone stay still," Mrs Lauriston called commandingly. "It must be a fuse..."

But even as she was talking, there was the sound of monstrous footsteps echoing around the hall, and slow, measured heavy breathing, like some awful beast.

"You should not have come here," a deep voice intoned, and if Danny didn't already _know _it was Mike, he would never, ever have guessed. "My curse will fall upon you all, unless you find my eye." It broke off into mocking, malicious laughter and when the lights came back on, there were more screams. The stage was covered in bloody writing. _Cursed. Cursed. Find the eye. Damned souls, beware my wrath. Find the eye._

All done with a few overhead projectors and some red filters. But Danny had to admit, it looked suitably shuddersome.

Gina let out a piercing scream. "It's moved!" she said, pointing at the demon with a trembling hand.

The thing's head had turned and its hand was pointing out towards the dancers. One of its eyes was indeed missing. Immediately, inevitably, people started crowding around, laughing nervously and daring each other to touch it, and Mrs Lauriston hurried out onto the stage along with the rest.

Quickly, invisibly, they darted up the stairs and Rusty crouched in front of the door, lockpick already in hand, and it took less than five seconds for them to get it open and slip inside.

"I guess we should find this eye then," Mike said loudly from the stage, exactly like they'd asked him to. "It has to be here somewhere."

He grinned. That should keep everyone occupied while they worked.

Like they'd been told, all the furniture upstairs was under dustsheets. Would make concealing the theft easier, but first, of course, they had to find the thing. He looked around, lips pursed. "Like a needle in a haystack," he commented.

"Or a glass eye in an auditorium," Rusty answered cheerfully, in the midst of getting the window open. "You'll find it long before they're finished downstairs."

"Your confidence is an inspiration," he said dryly, heading towards what looked like some sort of display case. Seemed like a good place to start.

Rusty grinned at him before sitting on the window ledge and leaning out with the glass cutter, so he could cut the hole from the outside.

After maybe five minutes of searching, he found the clock nestled on a table in the corner. To his eye, it was sort of old-fashioned and ugly. But, there was no accounting for taste. Gently, he wrapped it and placed it in the bag, before putting the replacement in its place. It was just a cardboard box, but it was the same size and approximate shape as the clock and when it was under the dustsheet, the room looked exactly the same at a casual glance.

"Done," he said, looking over at Rusty, who was just closing up the window. There was a neat round hole, just large enough for a grown man to reach in and open the handle. And, when Rusty let the drape go, it fell back in front of the window, half-obscuring it. Once again, there was nothing that would show up to a casual inspection. Should be a few days before the theft was discovered. There was no way that anyone would associate it with the party. "Let's head back downstairs," he said. "I want to see how they're getting on with the search."

He couldn't help but respond to the smile on Rusty's face. Yes, alright. This was fun.

Downstairs, the hunt was still going on, amid many whoops and cries. Looked like fun, and they slid into the lighting booth, ready and waiting.

Another few minutes, and Doug Fletcher, rummaging through one of the boxes of candles, held up a glass marble with a cry of triumph. "Here!" He turned around, looking confused. "What now?"

"Put it back in its head?" Mike suggested hesitantly.

"Right." Even from here, Danny could see Doug swallow apprehensively, before he slowly walked towards the mannequin. "Here goes..."

He reached out, and Rusty hit a couple of switches with a confident grin. Immediately, the stage was plunged into darkness and an inhuman scream rang out. Danny was pretty sure he heard Doug scream as well.

Leisurely, he stood up and headed out towards the stage, feeling his way along in the dark, counting in his head all the time. On the count of thirty the lights came back up, and by that time he was leaning on the back of the demon's chair, smiling directly at Doug, who jumped a foot in the air.

"Well done," he said pleasantly. "You've won the prize. Two tickets to the Battle of the Bands competition at Silverpark next month." He held out the envelope, and Doug took it, stunned.

"Uh, thanks," Doug said, blinking.

"Well, then," he said brightly. "Let's get back to this party."

* * *

It was well after midnight by the time the party wound down, and after one by the time they'd cleared the theatre enough to think about leaving.

"We should go see Leo," Danny said, suppressing a yawn, and Rusty nodded sleepily, rubbing at his eyes and streaking the paint down his face. Danny smiled tiredly. "You should wash that off."

"Don't want Leo to see," Rusty pointed out, gesturing vaguely at his mouth. "Might tell Bobby."

Good point. Nodding, he grabbed the bag and they walked in silence round to the bar.

Luckily, Leo was still in the bar. "Boys! What's with the get up? Been trick or treating?"

"Something like that," Danny said, hefting the bag meaningfully.

Leo smiled knowingly. "Come downstairs. Paul! Get the boys a couple of cokes, will ya?"

Drinks in hand, they followed Leo downstairs.

"You really got the clock?" Leo asked intently.

In response, Danny pulled it out of the bag and handed it over. "Here you go."

"Man." Leo shook his head wonderingly. "I would never have thought you could pull it off. You're really something, you know that?"

"We have our moments," Rusty said with a smile.

"More than moments, I'd say," Leo said, counting out their cash. "I know guys twice your age couldn't have pulled this."

He tried not to let the praise go to his head too much, but inwardly he was smiling. "Thanks, Leo," he said, taking the money.

"Some Halloween haul, huh?" Leo laughed. "Don't spend it all in one place."

They wouldn't spend it at all. This was going straight in the bank on Monday morning.

"So," Rusty began, as they left the bar.

"So," he agreed comfortably. There was a long moment of expectant silence. Finally, Danny grinned. "I had fun tonight," he admitted.

Rusty smiled. "I know." He turned his head to the side and looked at Danny thoughtfully. "And it isn't a waste of time. So. Tell me?"

He sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "I'm scared I'll let you down," he admitted quietly.

For a moment, Rusty just looked at him. Then he laughed, softly. "Oh, Danny," he said. "That's never, ever going to happen."

He looked into Rusty's eyes and saw the depths of unshakeable faith and he couldn't help but smile. Right now, he felt like nothing could touch them.


	46. Stocking, Glitter, Snow

__**A/N: Christmas drabbles! Someone may think that they're a Christmas present! But she'd be wrong! They're in the wrong order! Happy Christmas anyway! **

_**Timeline:**_

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine  
**

**4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**6. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**7. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**8. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**11. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**12. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**13. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**15. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**16. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**19. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**20. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**21. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**23. 'Stocking, Glitter, Snow' (Chapter 46) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen  
**

**24. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**25. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**26. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
**

**27. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**28. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**29. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Stockings, Glitter, Snow' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'  
**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

_Christmas 1979_

Stocking

The woman is lying back on the sofa, legs spread wide. She isn't wearing underwear.

Dad's Christmas party is drunk, raucous and dangerous. Rusty wants to run, but the bruising grip on his shoulder makes that impossible.

Torn nylon is shoved into his hands. "Go on," Joe urges his broken-toothed grin filled with anticipation.

"Put the whore's stockings on," Dad snorts, shoving him forwards. He lands on his knees in front of the sofa, his face inches from her moist, sticky thigh. "Isn't that what every boy wants in his Christmas stocking?"

The laughter starts. He shuts his eyes.

Glitter

Danny leans against the wall beside the dance floor. Juliet Darcey's Christmas party. There's no one here he wants to talk to.

Annette Darcey slinks up beside him. "Did you see Mrs Freeman's dress? I think she made it out of a tablecloth. I don't think we should let that sort in here. Since when do parties get affirmative action?"

"You sound just like your mother," he says.

She flushes red and walks away.

(_Maybe we all become our parents in the end. Maybe magic dies._)

He stares at the glitter ball, swirling above. It is beautiful and hollow.

Snow

Saul risks a glance behind him as he stumbles through the streets. The snow is falling heavily now. It will cover his footprints, and the blood.

He limps on, blundering into a crowd of people coming out of a church. Of course. It's Christmas.

Happy families cross his path. Excited children smiling up at their loving parents. This time of year always makes him feel like he's missing something. It's an old ache he's grown used to.

His breath hangs in the air. The snow is cold. If he lives through tonight, he will head to Vegas for a while.

_Christmas 1982_

Stocking

Danny doesn't know why he does it. This new apartment has a fireplace, and the moment he saw it, four months back, he got this idea.

He carefully gets up before Rusty and fills two stockings with candy, nuts and dates and hangs them from the mantlepiece. Mom never let him when he was a kid. She said it would ruin the paintwork.

He smiles. It looks like Christmas should.

Two hours later Rusty gets up and the look in his eyes when he sees the stockings makes Danny wish he'd thought to buy a camera.

This magic is real.

Glitter

He waits on their doorstep clutching the presents and maybe he's a little nervous. He's known them six months now, and that time has been wonderful beyond belief, but despite the freely-given invitation, he still worries he might be intruding.

A second later, Rusty pulls the door open, grinning widely. There is glitter on his cheek, and behind him, Saul can see that sixteen-year-old-enthusiasm and a glitter gun have transformed the apartment into something almost too bright to look at.

The glitter doesn't shine half as bright as the smile on Rusty's face. Right now, he isn't missing a thing.

Snow

The snow starts falling a little after three. Rusty stops and watches it out the window for a while. They say no two snowflakes are the same, though who checks, he can't imagine. Makes them all the more special though. Knowing that when a snowflake melts, there will never be another one quite like it.

He smiles back into the living room. Danny and Saul are having an animated discussion while Miracle on 34th Street plays in the background.

They have ate, they have drank, they have made merry and he is indescribably happy.

Times like this are like snowflakes.


	47. Fishing Trip

**A/N: This chapter follows immediately after Matilda and the Werewolf, so you might want to go back and read that first, if you don't remember it. It's chapter 23. :)  
**

_**Timeline:**_

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine  
**

**4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**6. 'Fishing Trip' (Chapter 47) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven  
**

**7. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**8. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**12. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**13. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**15. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**16. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**19. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**20. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33)**

**21. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**23. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**24. 'Stocking, Glitter, Snow' (Chapter 46) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen  
**

**25. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**26. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**27. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen  
**

**28. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**29. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**30. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Stockings, Glitter, Snow' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'  
**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

It was a good thing it was summer vacation, Danny thought. Not that there was really anything good here, but if it had to happen, better that they could hide up in his room and not have to worry about school.

It had been a week now since Rusty had turned up on his doorstep, battered and bleeding, and the bruises had only just started to fade. Rusty was still exhausted, sleeping twelve hours a day and listless when he was awake. A couple of the welts had turned a strange colour and started to smell bad, but Danny had dealt with that by applying antiseptic religiously and giving Rusty Tylenol for the resulting pain.

No, Rusty _was _healing, physically anyway. It was just...even after that first day Rusty spoke there were still long periods of time when he vanished into silence, and on the occasions when Mom or Dad came up to his room Rusty seemed unable to talk to them at all, even if he'd been talking to Danny just five minutes before.

He could tell by the way Mom pressed her lips together that this was being characterised in her head as rude and disrespectful, but thankfully she hadn't said anything about it yet.

In fact, Mom and Dad seemed to be going out of their way to pretend everything was normal. They had to have realised that Rusty had been staying here full time, but they hadn't said anything where usually Mom would have sent Rusty straight home. Made him think that the bruises Mom had seen had been enough to shock her. Still, he knew it couldn't last. No matter what he wanted, no matter what was _right, _they were never gonna just let Rusty stay.

It was early evening and they were lying on the floor in front of the sofa playing a strange mixture of Monopoly and Clue. So far Danny was almost certain that the Top Hat had done it in the hotel on Park Lane with the candlestick, but the game was far from over.

Rusty rolled an eight and landed neatly on Free Parking. "I've got the revolver," he declared." King me."

"The essence of democracy," Danny said dryly, putting a little paper hat on Rusty's token. He threw the dice and landed on a station.

"Hey, I own that," Rusty said cheerfully. "You have to move backwards from now on."

"Me or the token?" Danny asked with interest.

"The token," Rusty decided at last. "For now, anyway."

They shared a smile that quickly vanished at the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs. Mom and Dad were both home then.

Thankfully they weren't quite shouting loud enough for them to hear the words. Not that it mattered. Danny knew what it was about.

So did Rusty. "Maybe I should go," he said softly.

Danny turned and looked at him quickly. He was hunched over and if he wasn't shaking it was only through strength of will. "Where?" he asked evenly.

Rusty sighed. "Home."

"No," Danny said at once.

"I can't stay here forever, Danny," Rusty pointed out with another sigh. "Sooner or later I'm going to have to go back."

Go back. Go back to where that...that _bastard..._was waiting with his fists and his boots and his belt. He took a deep breath. "You think I'm just going to let you - "

" - _let _me?_" _Rusty repeated intensely.

He paused. "I don't want you hurt again," he whispered, quiet agony searing through every word. "Not ever."

Rusty looked away, rubbing his fingers round his mouth. "Maybe Dad will have calmed down," he offered eventually. "Maybe Mom will have come back. Maybe it won't be so bad. Maybe everything will be back to - "

" - that the normal where you only get hit once a week or so?" he demanded.

"Yeah," Rusty said, swallowing hard. "That's the one."

The anger died away to nothing. Downstairs, the fury grew to a fever pitch. He heard his name, heard _that boy, _heard _trouble, _heard _taking advantage. _

Mom didn't think they could go on like this. She wanted to send Rusty home and she'd never believe what was waiting for him, and she'd never listen when Danny tried to tell her.

"That's the way it is," Rusty said quietly.

"Yeah." Suddenly he was exhausted. "Don't go, Rus'. Not until we've got no choice."

"Not like I'm looking forwards to it either," Rusty said with a lightness that made Danny shiver.

Before he could say anything they heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

He exchanged a quick fearful look with Rusty. They had to be coming up here and there was terror in Rusty's eyes, and he was looking between the window and the bathroom door as if...

"Hey," he whispered, placing a hand on Rusty's. "It's just my parents, remember. They won't hurt you." Not physically. Not directly. They'd just send him home to be hurt instead. Much cleaner that way.

With a start, Rusty nodded and Danny wasn't so sure he'd been fully remembering where they _were. _

Gloomily he realised that Rusty had submerged into silence even before the door swung open and Mom swept in.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour," she announced stiffly. "Make sure you both get washed up and," her eyes swept over the duck pyjamas Rusty was still wearing, "_Dressed _before then."

"Of course, Mom," he said obediently, and with a sniff, Mom turned and left.

He swallowed. "A command performance," he said with a pretence at lightness.

Rusty was studying his pyjama top awkwardly.

Yeah. "She has to know you don't have any clothes here."

With a shrug, Rusty suggested that Mom probably hadn't given it even a passing thought, but if Rusty wasn't wearing something halfway decent by the time they went downstairs, there'd be trouble.

"Suddenly I've lost my appetite," he said miserably.

Rummaging through his wardrobe, they managed to find a pair of dark jeans that just about fitted once they put a new hole in the belt, and a mint green rollneck Danny _really _couldn't remember owning, but it worked to cover all the bruises except the ones on Rusty's face.

"Ready?" he asked pointlessly, and Rusty nodded his eyes shadowed and afraid.

* * *

Danny and his friend trailed down for dinner just as Barbara was bringing it through to the dining room, and Luke breathed a sigh of relief. Barbara was in a bad enough mood already; if the boys were late he was sure things could only get worse.

"Shall we?" he suggested indicating the table, and they nodded and sat down silently, not even looking at him. They sat stiffly, heads down, not even looking at each other for once, and he had the strangest feeling they were waiting for something. Surely they couldn't know what he and Barbara had planned? Although he supposed that this was the first time they'd called the boys down to dinner for a while. Maybe it was just because it was so unusual.

It was stupid that he felt so nervous at the thought of confronting his own son. He comforted himself with the thought that it was all for Danny's own good.

At any rate could already tell this wasn't going to be a pleasant meal, and for a long blissful moment, he considered pretending to get a phone call and heading into the office, or better yet, round to Donna's place for the night. But, no. No, they'd talked about this and he'd agreed with Barbara that they needed to stand together. Present a united front, for once in their lives.

Not that it was ever easy. Barbara thought that they should take this opportunity to try and get Rusty out of their lives altogether, not just out of the house. Luke thought that would probably just make Danny more rebellious than he was already, and that was the last thing they wanted. No, he was sure that given time, Danny would grow out of this phase and make newer, better friends. But, for now, they had to put up with this... _excessive friendship_.

With a sniff, Barbara brought the pot roast over to the table and started carving. Luke sat down on the other side of the table from the boys and glanced over to them, hoping to start some sort of a conversation. Danny was looking at Rusty who was staring down at the tablecloth. Luke winced a little, trying not to stare at the bruises on the kid's face. They did look worse than usual. He wondered if he should say something. He didn't want to play into the stories any though.

But the air was thick with tension and he wanted to try and lighten the atmosphere a little. That was the plan. Of course, the plan would be going a whole lot better if Barbara wasn't glaring at Danny and Rusty while she sharpened the knife. God, that woman made his head hurt. They'd talked about this – if they wanted to avoid alienating Danny completely, they had to make sure they made it as relaxed and pleasant a discussion as possible. Hell, this had been her idea - why couldn't she just try sticking to it?

"You know," he said, clearing his throat, as Barbara passed around the plates. "We had a training session the other day with our compliance officer." Jo. Five foot ten, blonde and with a habit of wearing skirts so short it made him and every other guy in the office need to stay sitting under their desks every time she bent down. "She sent round this memo a week or so before, telling us all to read paragraph five, subsection two of section six of the compliance code." He laughed. "Of course, I didn't. I just didn't get around to it. But I stuck my hand up with the rest when she asked if we'd read it." He looked round eagerly, and Danny managed to raise a small smile of acknowledgement. "But then she just laughed and told us that there _was _no paragraph five in subsection two. Can you believe that?" He laughed again, and after a few seconds Danny managed to laugh briefly and politely.

There was a long moment of silence.

"What a...funny...story, Luke," Barbara said insincerely through thin lips.

He sighed and turned his attention to his dinner. He really wanted to get out of here right now. And Barbara wondered why he didn't like coming home? God, this was actually physically painful.

For a moment they all just sat there, eating in silence .Not that anyone was really eating. As usual, Barbara was just picking at her food like a dead-eyed bird, and Rusty was just moving the food around his plate while Danny watched him.

"So," he said brightly. "Do you have any plans for the rest of summer vacation?" he asked the boys.

Danny looked up as if startled at the question. He hesitated for a second before glancing at Rusty, as if looking for answers or support, and Luke could see what Barbara found so annoying about that. "Uh, nothing really, Dad. Just hanging out, I guess."

He nodded. "Well, I was thinking that I could take the two of you fishing tomorrow," he said enticingly. "I used to love going fishing with my father when I was your age. And it's the perfect weather for it too. There's nothing quite like standing peacefully, watching the water go by and enjoying the sun and the breeze, just waiting to land the big one." He was beginning to convince himself that this was a good idea and he smiled across the table at them. "Doesn't that sound good?"

To his pleasure, Danny was looking straight at him, interest shining in his eyes. He always liked it when Danny looked at him like that. He didn't get enough opportunities to actually feel like a father.

"Yeah," Danny said slowly. "Yeah, that does sound good. Doesn't it, Rusty?"

Rusty nodded still not raising his eyes.

Barbara kicked him sharply under the table. Damn. He gritted his teeth. He was working up to it. Honestly, she never gave him a chance.

"And then," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Afterwards, I can give Rusty a lift home."

There was a crash as Danny dropped his fork. "You can't," he said loudly.

"Daniel!" Barbara said warningly, and oddly, Rusty seemed to be giving Danny the exact same look.

Danny paid no attention. "You can't send Rusty home," he insisted. "His father will _hurt _him."

"Danny, we've been through this before," he said as gently as he could. It was frustrating to hear this same thing over again. Danny just didn't understand. What did he want them to do? They couldn't just let the kid stay forever. Yes, the world wasn't fair, but there was nothing they could do about it, and besides, they all knew that Rusty lied. "Let's just focus on enjoying tomorrow." Why couldn't they just live for the day? There wasn't any point in worrying about the bad side of life. Especially not when they couldn't do anything about it.

"No!" Danny insisted, his voice shrill. "You can't!"

"Daniel, that's enough," Barbara snapped, sounding altogether fed up. "This is what is going to happen and that's an end to it. You're acting like a spoiled brat. If you carry on making a fuss, your father will drive Robert home right now."

Danny looked at him in mute appeal, and he quickly looked down and busied himself mopping up the last of his gravy with some mashed potatoes. He couldn't deny that Barbara was being harsh, but there was no point in arguing over it. She was quite right; this was what had to happen.

He heard Danny sigh and then a moment later Barbara smugly said "If you've finished eating, you can go upstairs. You'll need to be up early to go fishing with your father."

There was the sound of scraping furniture and when he looked up, Danny and Rusty were already heading towards the door. "Goodnight," he called after them.

Danny paused in the doorway. "Goodnight," he said, his voice short and muffled, and then they were gone.

He turned and looked at Barbara. "Well, that could have gone better," he said with a sigh.

The ugly sneer on her face was all the answer he needed.

* * *

Rusty followed Danny upstairs, trying to ignore the way his legs were trembling. For a moment there he'd thought that Danny was going to keep on arguing and he knew they would have lost. That argument they'd always lose. And call him a coward, but he didn't want to go home. Not yet. Not tonight.

Danny was angry and upset and no sooner was the door shut than he was pacing back and forth, his emotions spilling over in the way they never would in front of anyone else. "I knew it. They're just going to send you back. It's like they don't even...are they _blind? _Don't they care?" He whirled round, staring at Rusty with unseeing eyes. "I don't understand."

He didn't have any words. He couldn't reach out and touch Danny, and he didn't have any words of comfort to offer.

"I don't _understand,_" Danny said again in an agonised whisper.

And Danny didn't understand, he knew that. Danny had never understood. Danny lived in a world of right and wrong, and he believed with all his heart that Rusty didn't deserve to be hurt, and he could never understand that no one else agreed. He could never understand that his parents didn't agree.

No. They didn't _care_. And that hurt Danny and he couldn't find any way to make that better. And he felt sick and afraid and Danny couldn't find any way to make _that _better and they were both hurting and he was helpless. He hated feeling helpless. More than anything else in the world.

He tried to speak but the words didn't come, and he gritted his teeth at his uselessness. Danny needed him.

He took a step closer to Danny and spread his hands wide, trying to show how he felt, trying to show that he wanted...that he _wished..._

"I know," Danny said with a sigh, his hand pressed against his forehead, his fingers tugging through his hair. "I know."

This wasn't anything they hadn't expected. They'd known Danny's parents were going to send him home.

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "It's just the way they did it...do you think they really think I'll just forget all about it if Dad takes us fishing first?"

Rusty shrugged and with a tilt of his head, asked Danny just how often his Dad offered to take Danny anywhere?

Danny took a deep breath. "That's not the point."

But maybe they should just enjoy it, he suggested, looking Danny straight in the eye. After all, no matter what they did, he _would _have to go home to Dad, so maybe having any time before that was what mattered.

"It's a bribe," Danny told him. "It's just to make us go along with it, or to stop Dad feeling guilty."

He shrugged again. Did it matter? They could still enjoy themselves. And after...well, whatever happened happened, and it wasn't like Danny's parents were saying he couldn't come visit.

Instead of answering him out loud, Danny walked over to him and took his arm, turning it over and pulling up his sleeve, exposing the bandages. He remembered what Danny had said. What Danny had realised. That Dad had been aiming for his head. And now Danny was afraid that there might not be an after.

He looked up, meeting Danny's eyes and he wanted to promise that he wasn't going to die. He'd do whatever it took. He'd try and avoid Dad as much as he could, and when he couldn't, he'd do whatever Dad wanted. Be the obedient son that Dad wanted him to be – that should protect him a bit.

For a long moment, Danny looked at him, and then he nodded slowly, like he believed him.

They both knew it would never work. But sometimes...sometimes playing pretend was all you had.

"Okay," Danny said, determination in his voice. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it properly. There's bandages and painkillers in the bathroom still. You can take those. When it gets dark we'll sneak downstairs and take as much food as we can get away with. Get a water bottle too. It's summer, so you can stay outside as much as possible, and the food and stuff should mean you can just hide in your room the rest of the time. You won't even need to see him."

It sounded good, but with a shiver he remembered a week ago, Dad crashing through his door. His room wasn't so safe anymore.

Danny watched him carefully and nodded. "Okay," he said again. "How about we find something to wedge the door shut?"

Huh. That sounded like it could work. He smiled. Danny wanted to make things better.

"Always," Danny told him with soft intensity.

After a second, still smiling, he looked away and turned back to the abandoned board game. He figured in three more moves, he could steal one of Danny's hotels.

Danny grinned and sat down opposite him, taking the dice in hand. "Besides," he added out of nowhere. "I've never been fishing. Maybe fishing is fun."

Rusty couldn't remember a day spent with Danny that hadn't been fun.

* * *

Dad woke them at first light. As far as Danny was concerned, that was still the middle of the night. He was not a morning person.

"Get dressed and bring a spare change of clothes," Dad told them in a cheerful whisper. "I'll meet you downstairs in the kitchen. Keep your voices down. I don't want to wake your mother."

No. Danny didn't want that either.

He glanced over to Rusty, who looked exhausted, his face so pale the bruises stood out all the more. "Fun, right?" he said optimistically, and he wasn't surprised when Rusty didn't answer with anything but a tired grin. Yeah. Too much to hope that this would be a speaking day. No matter how much Rusty protested that it was all inevitable, that none of it mattered, Danny knew he was dreading going back to his father.

He reached out and silently squeezed Rusty's hand.

When they got downstairs, Dad was packing rounds of sandwiches into a large tupperware box. "This should keep us going till dinner," he announced, adding in a few bags of chips and a multipack of juiceboxes as well. Seemed as though he was going to act like nothing was wrong, that this was just a perfectly normal outing, and it wasn't going to end in betrayal.

Except it wasn't, of course, from Dad's point of view. Because Dad didn't listen when Danny told him what Rusty's life was like. If Dad would just believe him – if Dad could just _see –_ then Danny knew he'd do something. Only Dad was so very good at not noticing anything he didn't want to, that Danny didn't think that would ever happen.

"Are we all ready then?" Dad went on, and he managed to nod. "Good, good. Let's head on out."

It was about an hour's drive to Dad's chosen fishing spot, and they were soon out of town and heading through the countryside. As much as Danny hated everything this trip stood for, he couldn't help but smile as he saw Rusty staring out of the window with a certain wonder. He didn't exactly suppose Rus' got to go out of town a lot.

They left the car on a dirt track and walked about a mile or so to a bend in the river. Really it wasn't that far, but it was far enough that Rusty was struggling, his arm pressed against his ribs, his breathing fast and ragged. It hurt, Danny knew, and he had nothing to offer but sympathy and an arm to lean on.

Eventually they got to the bend in the river that Dad was apparently thinking of. Truthfully, Danny couldn't see what made _this _spot so special, but Dad smiled and indicated it dramatically, like they'd just reached El Dorado. "Here we go. This should be the perfect spot for the rest of the day. Let's get set up on the bank there."

They laid blankets down to sit on, and Danny figured they could probably quite happily curl up in them and go back to sleep. But Dad had more for them to do.

"I'm afraid I only have two rods, so you're going to need to share with Danny, Rusty," he said, smiling apologetically. "Now. Let me show you how to get this set up."

It all seemed simple enough, right until the point when Dad took the lid off the pail and revealed the heap of squirming, wriggling maggots. Danny shuddered, feeling sick. Oh, that was disgusting. But Dad just reached his hand in and grabbed one of them, spearing it on the end of the hook. "You have to make sure the worm is still wriggling," he told Danny, focusing on his line. "Else the fish won't bite."

Right. He took a deep breath and looked at the writhing mass. He could do this. He could do this easy. All he had to do was reach in, grab a worm...maggot...whatever...and stab it right through its plump little body. That sounded straightforward enough. He was sure he'd be able to do that any moment now, just as soon as he remembered how to move his hands.

As he hesitated, Rusty moved silently to his elbow, reaching in and dealing with the worm and the hook, and the look he shot Danny was a mix of amusement and sympathy.

He signalled his gratitude, and absent mindedly pulled a clump of tissue out his pocket so Rusty could wipe his fingers.

Dad looked back at them. "Oh, well done, Danny, that's excellent," he said happily.

Danny opened his mouth to admit that Rusty was the one who'd actually done it, but Rusty shook his head urgently and he caught the impression that right now Rusty would be happier if Dad thought they were doing exactly what they were told. "Thanks," he said instead, the hesitation audible in his voice. So often when _they _did something, Danny was given all the credit. Because Rusty was younger, he guessed, and so easier to overlook and dismiss. And he _hated _that, but knowing Rusty preferred it, he was able to put up with it. But just flat out taking credit for something he hadn't done? Oh, that made him feel wrong inside.

Not that Dad seemed to notice. "Alright," he said, smiling. "Come here and I'll show you how to cast. Put your hand there...good...now slide the other one down a bit...excellent, Danny. Now just watch me and try to copy."

He did. Five or six times before he got it right. And he knew he should be angry with Dad – and he was, really – but in spite of himself he found that he revelled in the attention. Dad spending time with him, teaching him, smiling at him like he was proud...oh, it didn't happen often.

He glanced at Rusty and took in the smile, the way Rusty was watching him, his head tilted back to enjoy the sun.

Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

They'd been out here for a few hours now and so far they hadn't caught a thing. Not that they were exactly making any tremendous effort. The sun was warm, there were no people around and they were lying back, relaxing together on the riverbank, the fishing rod propped up between them.

He'd never been outside the town before. It was kinda peaceful. Like being in a really big park. They'd even passed a field with some cows on the drive in. They'd just been standing there. That was kinda cool. Up till now the largest animal he'd ever seen in real life was Rafferty's dog, and that would probably look a lot smaller if it wasn't for the teeth.

Danny's father had got a bite an hour ago and waded out into the river, much to their bemusement. He'd been laughing, and he'd wound up on the other bank, further downstream, so they weren't exactly worried. And he felt a lot more comfortable now that they were alone...with Danny's father he always had to be on his guard. Now it was just the two of them and he was relaxed.

"That looks like a fish," Danny said, pointing lazily into the river.

He peered into the water and grinned. That was a stick.

"A stick?" Danny repeated with mock outrage. "Look, it's got scales."

He looked. Lichen, he suggested to Danny with a tilt of his head.

Danny sat back down sullenly. "You don't know anything about fish either.

Not a thing, he had to agree cheerfully. But they weren't made out of wood. Besides. What was Danny going to do if it _was _a fish?

"No idea," Danny answered his thought. "Wiggle the rod at it maybe?" He looked at the rod with a frown. "D'you think there's still bait on that?" he wondered.

Rusty shrugged. He didn't much know and he didn't much care. He had no particular desire to reach his hand into the maggots again anyway. Reminded him too much of the time Mom had left a packet of sausages lying on the window sill for a week. Dad had made him clean it up. Least it had driven home the importance of not letting anything stay in his food stash too long.

Mom. He bit his lip. There was part of him that was still hoping she would be there when he went home. That everything would be the same as ever. He doubted it though. He wished he could see her again, even if it was just to say goodbye and that he was sorry. He'd never meant to drive her away, and not just for his own sake. Dad was right, she couldn't look after herself. Just like he did, she relied on Dad to put a roof over her head and for money for food and stuff.

Without that, he thought the scene Dad had painted for her was probably about right, and it was his fault and he was _sorry. _He rubbed at the healing marks on his back absently. No wonder Dad had been angry. He couldn't blame him for -

Danny grabbed his hand. " - no," he said, his voice soft, his eyes focused on Rusty absolutely. "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. There's no excuse for what he did."

Danny always made everything sound so simple. But he smiled, apologising for bringing the nice day down, and Danny rolled his eyes, silently telling him how ridiculous he thought _that _was, and he shrugged, because yes, it might sound stupid, but he wanted the beautiful day and the sun and the...and the _together. _

Danny shuffled closer to him and moved his hand around. And now they were holding hands, and he knew he should find that strange. But it was Danny and he didn't.

"I'm gonna check the bait," Danny announced after a few minutes, and Rusty nodded good naturedly. Danny didn't want his Dad to come back and discover that they weren't even trying, and that was understandable.

He watched as Danny drew the line in. "It's still there," Danny reported, sounding surprised.

Rusty wasn't. You'd have to be pretty hungry to even consider eating something that looked like that. He didn't see why fish would feel any different.

"Okay," Danny said confidently. "Now, I just need to cast this back into the river." He drew the rod back with a swift movement, and the line sailed over their heads and buried itself neatly in a bush.

There was a second of stunned silence and then an outbreak of unhappy barking.

He grinned. Oh, well done. Danny had caught a dog.

"I suppose we should do something about that," Danny said slowly, a second before the bushes rustled and a confused-looking collie came running up to them, wagging its tail uncertainly, the hook caught in its shaggy coat.

Rusty stood and carefully removed it, and the dog licked his hand enthusiastically. Some fish.

He grinned over at Danny who stood, trying to look as dignified as possible. "I pulled back too far," he explained.

Uh huh. The dog bounded off for a moment before coming back with a stick and a hopeful expression. Suited him fine, he threw the stick and laughed as the dog caught it before it ever hit the ground.

"Think he's trying to tell you your throw's lousy," Danny commented with a grin.

Well, then he'd just have to try again.

After he'd been playing with the dog for a couple of minutes, a woman holding a dog lead came scrambling out of the bushes. "Benjy...oh, there you are!"

She started walking closer and Rusty automatically stepped back, the dog bounding happily after him.

"Hello," she said with a broad smile, looking straight at him. "Out here for the fishing? I see you found my dog. Don't worry, he's perfectly friendly. I...God!" She stopped suddenly, staring fixedly at his face.

Self-consciously he ducked his head, trying to hide the bruises, but that only seemed to make it worse.

She inhaled sharply, and then she rushed forwards and grabbed the dog by his collar, clipping the lead on and dragging him off quickly, without so much as glancing at him again.

Right. Suddenly he felt so much colder. And Danny told him people cared.

Silently he walked back to the riverbank and sat beside Danny and equally silently, Danny passed him a sandwich and a juicebox, and he sat close, drawing in the comfort.

* * *

Danny had well and truly made his mind up now; fishing wasn't for him. Yes, the fresh air and the outside had been nice after a week spent shut up in his room, however necessary it had been, but there was only so much staring at a river he could do. Especially since Rusty had dozed off an hour or so back. He looked peaceful at least. Danny figured he would need all the rest he could get, and he felt the savage anger beating at the edges of his mind again. He took a deep breath. He'd talk to Dad again. If he could just make Danny _see _he knew Dad would help them.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a sudden burst of movement. He turned quickly to see the line jerking. _Huh. _

"Wake up," he said, keeping his voice low in case the fish heard him.

Rusty sat up instantly, blinking and confused, his expression clearing as he followed Danny's gaze.

"What do we do?" he demanded.

Rusty just shrugged in answer and made a polite after-you gesture towards the fishing rod.

"Oh, you're a lot of help," Danny complained, grimacing, but he awkwardly grabbed the rod and started trying to pull the fish in, like Dad had told him. The rod practically jerked out of his hand. "It's strong," he exclaimed. "Must be big."

He scrambled backwards, tugging on the road all the time as it weaved wildly from side to side. Rusty laid his hands carefully on the rod in between Danny's, and with a nod, they both pulled together and the fish came flying out of the water with a splash.

Danny vaguely had time to realise they should probably have used the net, as he dropped the rod and desperately tried to catch it with his bare hands. He managed to close his hands around it briefly. Very briefly.

_Ew. _"It's all slimy," he exclaimed, snatching his hands back, and the fish fell down onto the ground in front of him.

Rusty was bent over, doubled up with laughter.

Danny glared at him. "Well, you pick it up then."

Still laughing, Rusty managed to straighten up and shake his head. Apparently Danny had caught the fish, Danny had to deal with the fish.

"It was a joint effort," he pointed out.

A joint effort Rusty wanted no part in.

With a sigh, Danny pulled his t-shirt sleeves down so they covered his hands, and gingerly took a step towards the fish.

The fish promptly flopped towards him, opening its mouth to reveal dozens of sharp teeth.

_Fish had teeth?_

With an embarrassing shriek, he jumped backwards, grabbing hold of Rusty's arm in the process, instinct insisting he get Rusty away from the danger, but he caught Rusty by surprise and Rusty's foot slipped, and Danny couldn't catch him, and with a cry, they both tumbled headlong into the river.

Luckily it was only waist deep, and Danny managed to clamber to his knees almost immediately, spitting out a mouthful of water and looking round anxiously for Rusty.

Rusty was looking straight back at him, a smile of wry resignation in his eyes.

He sighed. "You know, I don't even really like fish."

* * *

It had been too long since Luke had been fishing, that was the problem. He'd forgotten how much he liked it, and time had slipped crazily away from him. It had never been his plan to leave Danny and his friend for so long.

When he heard the scream, he'd swear his heart stopped beating. That was Danny. He was absolutely sure of it, and he was running before he'd even started thinking, his rod and the fish he'd caught lying abandoned behind him.

He sprinted round the corner in true to see Danny and Rusty clambering out of the river. God. "Are you alright?" he asked, running up and helping Danny up, checking him over for injuries. "Did you hurt yourself? What happened?"

"We're fine," Danny said, glancing back at Rusty for the nod of confirmation. "Just wet, that's all. I caught a fish," he added with a hint of pride. "And then I slipped."

"Yes. Well." He stared, not quite sure what to say. He didn't even understand _how. _Boys will be boys, he supposed. "Good thing I told you to bring a change of clothes now, isn't it?" He sighed, looking at them. They were completely soaked. At least it was a warm day. "Wait there two minutes, while I run and get my things?" he instructed them. "It's probably about time we were heading out anyway."

Now that the panic was over, he walked back along the river to pick up his equipment and the fish. The fish Danny had caught hadn't exactly been very big. And only one as well. He guessed fishing trips with his son was one more dream he was going to have to scrap.

When he got back the boys had picked up the blanket and stowed the rod.

"Ready to go then?" he asked brightly, scooping up the fish from where it had been left on the bank and sticking it in the box with the others.

"Yeah," Danny said, and Rusty nodded.

The walk back to the car seemed to take forever. Normally he would ask what they'd been doing in school, but it was the summer holidays, so that was a non starter. And he knew they'd spent the past week in the house for whatever reason, so he couldn't even ask if they were enjoying summer break. And neither of them made any attempt at conversation, trudging along behind him, exchanging glances in that creepy way as if they were talking with their minds. So, without much of a clue what else he should be doing, he strolled along ahead of them, calling back encouraging phrases like "Not much further," and "Nearly there."

It was a relief when they _were _there and he quickly popped the trunk open, making sure all the fishing equipment was safely stowed away before looking out the towel and dry clothes. Unfortunately he'd only thought to bring _one _towel – he hadn't exactly been expecting them to jump in the river.

"Here you go," he said, handing the towel to Danny. "Pass it to Rusty when you're done."

But instead Danny passed it to Rusty immediately, and Rusty shook his head and pushed it straight back towards him.

"Oh, for..." he muttered, before taking a deep breath. "Don't fight over it. Just...Danny, you go first and pass it to Rusty when you're done, okay?"

Fortunately, there seemed to be enough of an edge to his voice that they obeyed. He realised with a start that Danny hadn't said anything since the river. God, if Danny had picked up that habit from Rusty...he didn't know _what _he'd do.

"Here you go," he said, passing over the pile of clothes, when Danny had finished towelling his hair and body. Get dressed quickly now. There's no dry shoes, so you'll have to just leave them off, and hope they dry quickly.

"Thanks, Dad," Danny said, his voice subdued, and Luke breathed a sigh of relief. Danny still had some manners then.

He got the second pile of clothes ready and looked at them carefully for a moment. They looked noticeably nicer than the stuff he normally saw Rusty wearing, and he guessed these must be some of Danny's old things. Well, he just wouldn't mention it to Barbara. He always took the view that what she didn't know wouldn't upset her.

"Here you go, Rusty," he said, passing the clothes over, and he rolled his eyes as Rusty awkwardly took them and started pulling the jersey over the one he was already wearing. "Take the wet one off _first,_" he said exasperatedly.

Rusty shook his head, not even bothering to look at him. God, kids today really were so _rude. _

"Dad," Danny said quietly.

"Later, Danny," Luke said, still focused on Rusty. He just wanted to get this over with and get home. "Do as I say," he ordered. "I don't want to have to explain to your parents why I let you catch cold now, do I?" He was satisfied to see the shiver. Hopefully common sense would prevail. "There, you see? Do you want to stay cold?"

"Leave him alone," Danny demanded, sounding furious.

That was quite enough. He strode forwards and grabbed Rusty by the arm, ignoring the gasp. At least Rusty didn't struggle on once he'd got a hold of him.

Efficiently, he seized the sweater and pulled it over the kid's head.

Then he stopped.

And stared.

The kid's back and torso were riddled with a mess of bruises and welts and cuts and scabs, a patchwork of blues and reds and purple fading into yellow. It was sickening. It looked like someone had done their best to torture the kid.

Aghast, his mouth hung open. He'd never seen anything like this before. Never even imagined anything like this. He didn't know what he was supposed to say.

The kid stared at him, his eyes wide and fearful.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luke could see Danny staring at him too, but his eyes were full of hope. Hope for _what? _He had no idea what to do. This wasn't something he could deal with. No one could _expect _him to deal with it.

The dry shirt had fallen onto the ground. He picked it up and pushed it vaguely in Rusty's direction. "Here you go. Get dressed quickly," he said, turning away and occupying himself with the box of fish. "Say, do you think your mother would like some of these?" he asked, and he knew he was babbling. "They should fry up nicely."

He turned his head in time to see Rusty shake his head. Thankfully he'd already pulled his top on – Luke figured if he'd looked at that much longer it might just have turned his stomach completely. Now it was all covered up, he could breathe easier. Try and get his heartbeat back to normal.

It was nothing. It was just shadows or a trick of the light or something. At any rate it couldn't possibly have been that bad, could it? Someone would know. Someone would have done something. It was probably just the result of a fall or a fight or something. Probably the kid just bruised easily. And even if it was...even if it _was, _there was nothing he could do about it. You couldn't go around interfering in other people's families, particularly not _that _sort of family. He didn't know what the kid might have done to deserve it. For all he knew, it was a perfectly reasonable punishment. No, he shouldn't get involved.

He took a deep breath and busied himself rechecking that everything was secure and the trunk was closed over. He could feel Danny's eyes boring into the back of his head and he shifted uncomfortably.

Maybe he could have a quiet word with the kid's father. Not to accuse him of anything, or even imply everything. Just...a quiet word. Let him know that he'd seen the kid's injuries. Surely that would be enough to make him think twice.

For some reason he still felt guilty.

"I know," he said brightly. "Why don't I take the two of you for dinner before we head home? I don't know about you, but I'm feeling hungry."

There was no answer. Unwillingly he looked up to see Danny staring at him with a look of bewilderment and betrayal.

There was nothing he could do.

* * *

Danny had no memory of the journey from the river to the bar and grill down the road. Throughout the car ride he didn't think he'd managed to pull together a single coherent thought, and he was conscious of Rusty sitting anxiously beside him, aware of the turmoil in Danny's head but not able to break through.

He wanted to apologise for Dad – he _tried, _but Rusty hadn't been willing to listen. Far as he was concerned, Danny didn't need to apologise for Dad, and even if he did, Rusty didn't see that Dad had done anything wrong.

Why should he, Danny thought savagely. After all, Rusty and Dad seemed to be in perfect agreement, Rusty's father beating him was just fine, long as no one saw the evidence.

God. The look on Dad's face when he'd been staring at Rusty's chest. It had been a mix of shock, distaste and horror, and Dad hadn't said a _word. _Not a word. He'd just looked away and then carried on like everything was fine.

It didn't matter to him, Danny realised dully. Rusty didn't matter to him.

And okay, Rusty was his best friend and he was always going to care about him, but Danny couldn't imagine seeing anyone who looked as beat-up as Rusty did and not wanting to help. How could Dad not care? Was that what happened when you got old? He wasn't going to let it happen to him. He swore he'd always care.

He just didn't know how he could ever look Dad in the eye again. It felt like something had been ripped out of him leaving him hollow and uncertain.

They sat down at a booth in silence. Rusty tried to catch his eye, offering him reassurance and sympathy, and beneath that he could see that giddy relief. Someone had found out and done nothing. That was about as good an outcome as Rusty hoped for.

He didn't want Rusty to be right, and he wanted to shout at Dad, wanted to force him to admit what he'd done – what he'd chosen _not_ to do .

Rusty gave him a warning glance. Right. No starting the fight. Not here, and maybe not anywhere.

He shot Rusty a look back that was all about the sorrow and the helpless rage, and Rusty smiled at him tiredly, trying to tell him it would be alright.

He took a deep breath. Yeah. Somehow, it had to be.

"What are you thinking of ordering?" Dad said after a moment. "I was thinking about the t-bone steak. It's really good here."

Honestly, he didn't feel much like eating. He shrugged and scanned the menu. "Chicken pasta," he decided, more or less randomly, and he glanced beside him to Rusty, who was looking nervously at the side orders and more importantly the prices, his brow creased.

Right. Because Dad might grudge paying for a full meal for Rusty, so he he felt like he had to find the cheapest option available. And before Danny would have told him he was worrying too much, that he should order what he wanted but now...Now he thought probably that was exactly what Dad would want. Now he thought that Dad probably wouldn't care if Rusty went hungry.

In fact, Dad was staring across the table, looking at what Rusty was looking at, his expression unreadable, and he opened his mouth and Danny just _knew _that he was going to tell Rusty he could only have a side salad or something.

"Are you ready to order?" The waitress had materialised beside them.

"Yes, I think so," Dad said. "Can we get a t-bone steak, a chicken pasta and a cheeseburger with fries. And three orders of pie to follow."

"Sure thing," the waitress said uninterestedly, scribbling it down and vanishing.

Oh. Some of the anger just melted away. Dad had noticed what Rusty was doing, and instead of agreeing, he'd made sure Rusty had a proper meal.

Rusty was smiling across the table at Dad, a smile of unaffected thanks that even Dad could probably understand.

A confusing wave of gratitude flooded through him. Maybe nothing was black and white. After all, when he considered all the people he'd ever told, all the people who'd let him down...he was stupid to have stupid to have expected more this time.

Beneath the table he pressed his leg against Rusty's, and Rusty turned and smiled at him.

At least they had this.

* * *

Dinner had been unexpected and delicious, though the cherry pie hadn't been a patch on Mabel's. Mind you, in Rusty's opinion, no food in the _world _was as good as Mabel's pie. And by the end of dinner, as Danny's father told them stories about when he'd been a boy going fishing with _his _Dad, Danny had been much happier.

He understood that Danny wanted his father to care about what happened to Rusty, and even though he knew better than to expect anything else, he was sorry for Danny's disappointment, angry that – once again – Danny's father had let him down.

But really, when Danny's father had seen his injuries, he'd been so ashamed and terrified, and when he'd seen the look on his face he'd expected to be beaten there and then, and it had been a relief when that hadn't happened. And in his heart of hearts, he had to admit it would be nice if Danny was right. If someone outside the two of them thought that it mattered if he was hurt. If someone besides Danny told him he didn't deserve it.

But it was a waste of time thinking about how he'd _like _the world to be – the real world had enough problems.

They played twenty questions on the car journey home. Took Danny four guesses to get John Wayne, which was a new record, and Danny's subsequent impression somehow turned into Snagglepuss, and that had them both howling with laughter.

All good things come to an end though, and far sooner than he'd ever be prepared for, the car was pulling up outside his building. He stared up at it, heart pounding. He didn't want to go back. Oh, hell, he really didn't want to go back. Dad was gonna be so mad, and worse yet, Danny's Dad got out of the car like he was planning on walking up with him.

He'd been hoping that he could just hang around outside until Dad went to bed and then sneak inside. That had been the plan he and Danny had figured out. One more way to avoid Dad for as long as possible.

Didn't seem like that was going to work.

"I'm sure Rusty can find his own way upstairs," Danny said quietly, looking straight at his father.

"No, no," Mr Ocean said, a strange look in his eye. "I need to walk him to his door. You should stay in the car though, Danny."

Danny set his jaw angrily. "But I want to - "

" - wait in the car, Danny," Mr Ocean interrupted harshly.

Swallowing hard, Danny nodded and looked straight at Rusty, begging him to be careful, to be safe, and he tried to assure Danny that he'd be fine, but he didn't believe what he was saying.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rusty," Danny said softly, and he smiled bravely.

Mr Ocean was waiting for him outside the car. Damn. He led him inside and up the stairs. There were bloody handprints scattered up the wall. He tried not to look at them. Made him feel sick, and besides, he could only hope the landlord didn't figure out it was him, or he'd really be in trouble.

He hesitated outside the door, not quite sure what to do. If it was just him, he'd try the door and hope it opened. But suppose Mr Ocean followed him inside? Bringing people to the door was bad enough. Actually leading them inside probably counted as some strange form of suicide.

Instead he knocked and waited. And waited. And suddenly he was wondering what happened if Dad wasn't in? Would Mr Ocean just leave him here? What if Dad had left like Mom did? It had been a week after all. Maybe Dad had figured he wasn't coming back. His heart lurched at the thought and he honestly couldn't tell if it was dread or hope.

But then he heard the footsteps lumbering towards the door, and it was all he could do to stand his ground and not turn tail and run.

The door swung open and Dad stood there, staring blearily out, the smell of cheap vodka rolling off him. He looked down at Rusty and snorted. "Well, well. Come crawling back, have you, you little bastard?"

He nodded tersely.

Dad looked past him at Danny's father. "What'cha want?" he grunted rudely.

There was silence, and curiously Rusty looked back over his shoulder. Mr Ocean was standing there, staring at Dad, his lips moving soundlessly. "Nothing," he said after a long moment. "I just wanted to drop off Rusty."

"Rusty?" Dad snorted again. "That what you're calling yourself these days? What sort of a stupid fucking name is _Rusty?_"

His name. The name Danny had given him. The name Dad couldn't touch, and he rejoiced to think that Dad was drunk enough right now that he'd have forgotten come morning.

Behind him, Danny's father made an uncomfortable noise. "Yes, well, I should be...he gestured awkwardly back towards the stairs. But he didn't leave immediately, he stood there, staring at Rusty now, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Are...are you..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "No, never mind. Goodnight. It was good to meet you, Mr Ryan."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Dad said in a crude mockery of what he considered a posh accent. He laughed briefly and reached out, grabbing Rusty be the arm and dragging him through the door. "Get in here you," he said as the door slammed shut.

Alone with Dad. He stood trembling and waited.

* * *

Outside the slammed door, Luke sagged against the wall. He hadn't said anything. He hadn't known where to begin. And he'd never met the kid's father before and he hadn't been expecting him to be so...so _big_. He looked like he might start a fight if Luke had so much as looked at him wrong, let alone if he did something as foolhardy as try and tell him how to raise his kid. Anyone would resent that, really, he didn't know what he'd been thinking even considering it. And even it if was a good idea, the man had plainly been drinking, so now wasn't the time for any kind of calm discussion. Sometime in the future though, maybe. When they'd got to know each other a bit better. When tempers were calm and sober. That would be the time to bring it up.

As he walked downstairs he pretended he couldn't hear the shouting breaking out behind him. And when he reached the car, he pretended he couldn't see the accusation in Danny's eyes.

* * *

As they'd planned on, Rusty arrived at the house ten minutes after Danny's parents had left for work the next day. His lip was freshly split and there were new bruises on his chest. Nothing like as bad as last week, but that wasn't as much of a comfort as Rusty might think.

But he found an ice pack, a can of soda and a bag of animal crackers, and they retreated back to the sanctuary of his room and curled up in front of the sofa with the Monopoly board.

"Huh," he said. "Just landed on the police station on Park Place with the dagger. That can't be good."

"Think you gotta go to jail," Rusty nodded.

"That's okay," he said with a shrug. "I still got the bishop so I can sneak out in disguise."

"You're disguised as a bishop?" Rusty asked with a grin.

"What?" he demanded grinning back.

"You couldn't even pass as a soccer player last month," Rusty pointed out.

"I was fine till they started talking about the offside rule," Danny said, and they both laughed.

He looked at Rusty. Despite everything, despite the pain, right now, life didn't seem so bad. He sighed. Somehow, everything would be alright. He swore it.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, please take a minute to review - I really appreciate it. :) **


	48. Crooked Game

**A/N: To cornychet: Sorry, I prefer to reply to people directly, but as you're not logged in, I'm afraid I couldn't do that here. **

**I have to admit, when I read your review my first thought was "But there isn't any discussion of corporal punishment in this story, and Danny certainly has no opinion on it – he only cares about what happens to Rusty, and that's child abuse, not corporal punishment." But then I read your review again, and yes, by the definitions you give, everything Rusty's parents do to him would be acceptable and justified corporal punishment, not abuse. Certainly there is never any intention to harm him in a permanent fashion. **

**I would disagree with those definitions, as I think there is a line and Rusty's parents cross it and abuse him, but you're perfectly entitled to your opinion, obviously. And while Danny might never use the word abuse, bearing in mind the time and place this story is set, he'd be familiar with corporal punishment as normally practiced, and he sees what Rusty's parents do to him as going beyond that.**

**But even accepting those definitions, I have to admit, I'm then not exactly sure what you want from the story? You say that they should be living by their parents rules, but – Linus aside – I don't think that people who break societies rules to the extent that they choose 'professional con artist' as a career are exactly likely to have stuck to the rules as kids. And in the context of this story, if they obeyed their parents rules while living under their roof – or as much as possible anyway, bearing in mind that they both have rules which are physically impossible to follow, such as 'Be good at piano without ever practicing' or 'Don't let your mother leave me' – then they would never have met, as Danny wouldn't have been moved from his old school. In fact, he'd probably have grown up to work in some job he didn't care about, marry a girl just like his mother, and cheat on her with anyone and everyone as he tried his hardest to use sex to fill up the empty places in his life, because he never learned how to express or accept love and affection. And Rusty, obviously, would have died age seven, unloved and unmourned, when he obeyed the rules by standing still while his mother stabbed a knife through his eyes – even if it didn't go straight through and pierce his brain, and even if she didn't go on to stab him multiple times, shock and infection would have set in without medical attention long before his father came home. Obviously I know that's not what you would want to see happen, but my point is, if you're happy that they disobey the rules to that extent, why does it bother you that Danny also disobeys the rules by not wanting Rusty to be hurt? **

**And if your point is that they can disobey the rules but Danny should just accept what happens to Rusty as the inevitable consequence of that...well, I think it takes a special sort of mind to see the person you love most in the world terrified, traumatised and in agony, knowing that it's going to continue on with no end in sight, and decide that this is morally right and the way things are supposed to be. Whether that's objectively the case or not, Danny simply doesn't have the ability to detach himself in that way. **

**As for the football thing...yes, in this story, Danny isn't into sports. He also doesn't care for classical music, shop class or mushrooms. *shrug* As in real life, fictional characters are not going to like everything you like. Sorry, but it's only realistic. A fictional character who liked _everything _would almost certainly wind up looking like a colossal Mary Sue. And in this case, as well as the nod to O12, the football thing was to point out that they still have so much to learn. Because an older Danny would have learnt all the rules to play his part for the con. **

**Sorry, this turned out to be something of an essay. *shrug***

**A/N2: As always, thanks to InSilva for reading and for helping me improve. Mate, you make me a better writer. :) **

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine**

**4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**6. 'Fishing Trip' (Chapter 47) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven**

**7. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**8. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**12. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**13. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**15. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**16. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**17. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**19. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**20. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**21. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**22. 'Stocking, Glitter, Snow' (Chapter 46) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**23. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**25. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**26. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**27. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**28. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**29. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**30. 'Crooked Game' (Chapter 48) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**31. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Stockings, Glitter, Snow' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

The school was completely dark and still. Blake looked up at it for a long moment. "You sure this is the place?" he asked, sounding just a little more apprehensive than he'd like.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "It looks pretty dead."

John, their guide, laughed. "Course it does," he said. "You really want to break in some place while all the lights are on? I thought you said you'd done this sort of thing before."

"Oh, yeah, loads of times," he lied automatically, and he heard the others muttering agreement behind him. They all talked big, and he'd impressed John earlier by describing the time he'd robbed a liquor store – but the truth was, he'd shoplifted some beef jerky. Which was totally the same thing.

But John really did seem to be for real. They'd met him while they were being thrown out of the store down the block from Uncle Ralph's house for the third time in three days. John had been stood outside, drinking out of a hipflask, cigarette in hand, and when they'd gone up to mooch a few smokes, they'd got to talking, and he'd told them he was heading round to break into the high school for a poker game.

It sounded _amazing. _Booze, cigarettes, gambling – all it needed was for some tail to show up, and it would just about make up for their spring break plans falling through so badly that they wound up staying at his stupid aunt and uncles's house in this no-mark town. At any rate, it beat another night in, playing board games with his aunt and his whiny loser cousin, Doug.

Fortunately John had been happy enough to take the three of them along, though he'd warned that it would be some guy named Nick's decision whether they could play or not.

"Alright," John hissed, leading them round the building to the side entrance. "This door will have been left unlocked by the guys."

That made the actual breaking in part a lot easier. He'd been imagining they'd have to break a window or some shit like that. No matter what though, the thrill of creeping into the dark hallway set his heart pounding, and he grinned over his shoulder back at Dean and Chuck. This was more like it.

John led them a twisting route through the pitch-black corridors and stairs, and they had no choice but to follow his flashlight, with no real idea where they were going. Finally they stopped and John pushed open the classroom door slowly.

There were four boys already there, three of them sitting in a circle round a few desks that had been hurriedly pushed together, bottles of beer, cards, money and cigarettes laid out in front of them. Two of them looked young – probably went to this high school, and Blake dismissed them in his mind. The third though...he had dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a leather jacket and a pencil thin moustache, and when he fixed his gaze on Blake, he could feel the tension in the room spike.

"What's this, John?" the boy asked mildly. "You bringing in new people without my say so now?"

"This is Blake Fletcher," John introdcued them. "And his friends, Chuck and Dean. I met them this afternoon. They seem cool enough. Guys, this is Nick."

"Uh huh. You got cash, kids?" Nick asked. "Cos if you don't have money, there's no point you being here."

With a shuffling of feet, they each produced a stack of bills. They had the money they'd saved up for spring break, plus everything they'd managed to muscle out of his stupid cousin and his friends the other day. They'd been whining about how they needed the cash to start a band. Fucking idiots. Still, it made for a tidy sum, and they were going to add to it tonight. Nick aside, these high schoolers had probably never played a game of poker in their lives.

Nick smiled suddenly and Blake found it impossible to avoid smiling back. "That'll do nicely," he said. "Come in. Sit down, let the brat get you a beer. Hey! Brat!" He raised his voice sharply and turned to confront the fourth person in the room, the one Blake had barely even glanced at.

It was a blond boy who had to be thirteen at most, dressed in a boy scout's uniform, lying on his stomach, reading a Captain America comic and kicking his legs against the wall. He looked up, blinking nervously when Nick yelled. "Uh, yeah?"

"Go get some beers," Nick ordered.

The boy was on his feet immediately, hurrying to the corner of the classroom and opening a large fridge where, rested in amongst test tubes and bottles of chemicals, there was a couple of crates of beer. Wow.

They sat down in the empty seats opposite Nick.

"What's with the kid?" Chuck asked curiously.

Nick rolled his eyes. "My stupid baby brother," he complained. "I had to pick him up after scouts, and I'm stuck with him till tomorrow."

"That's rough," he said sympathetically. "I can relate. We have to stay with my aunt and uncle this week, and they keep making us take my cousin everywhere. Little fucker doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut either. Got so bad we wound up locking him in the garage for a few hours just so we'd leave us alone."

"Really," Nick said appreciatively, his eyes dark and cold, and Blake figured he was probably imagining doing the same to his little brother. It wasn't like he was proud of what they'd done to his cousin, but he was just so _annoying. _Three years ago, he'd been quite happy to hang around with him every time he stayed with Uncle Ralph, but now he was in college, now he was with his friends – well, the whole idea was just _humiliating. _

The brat looked nervous when he walked back to the table, his arms laden down with beer for all of them, and he jumped about a foot in the air when Chuck jokingly lunged at him, snapping his fingers in the brat's face. One of the beer bottles went slipping out of his fingers, and he only just managed to catch it again. He looked across the table at Nick, his eyes wide, and for what seemed like an uncomfortably long second, the two just stared at each other.

"Sorry," the brat whispered at last softly.

"Yeah, well, just fucking be careful," Nick grunted dismissively and the brat nodded and quickly crept back to his corner directly behind Blake, Chuck and Dean. "Alright," Nick began, drawing the cards into his hands and starting to shuffle. "The game is Texas Hold Em. I take it we all know how to play?"

"Yeah," he nodded eagerly, and Chuck and Dean echoed his words a second later. They'd played in college a few times. He knew what he was doing – he had no doubt that between them they'd send those highschoolers away crying.

"Okay then," Nick said as he started to deal. "We'll start with a five dollar minimum bet. Ante up, guys."

He looked down at the cards in his hands and smiled to himself. Oh, this was going to be good!

* * *

Just like he'd expected, the two kids didn't last long. They were out of the game before he'd even actually managed to learn their names, and most of their money was lying on the table in front of him. Chuck and Nick were up some too, though Dean and John were both down. That was the fortunes of war though.

Luckily, the two didn't hang around once they were out, just grabbing an extra beer and heading for the door. He had to figure they were probably mostly just there for the booze, and he rolled his eyes contemptuously at the thought. Served them right.

Poker was serious business and he really didn't need the distraction. Bad enough that the brat behind him kept talking, no matter how often Nick told him to shut his fucking mouth.

They'd been doing most of the talking though. Sharing all the best jokes and stories, and John had laughed along with them, while Nick cut in with the occasional quiet, hilarious comment. There was just something about him though. He was cool and collected and distant. Anytime he said _anything_, everyone listened, and anytime he wasn't talking they were trying to impress him, trying to make him laugh.

But mostly they were trying to win.

He looked down at the table. Face cards were the Jack of Clubs and the Eight of Diamonds. And Chuck was just dealing him his last card. Jack of Diamonds, Jack of Hearts and the Two of Hearts. That gave him three of a kind. Time to bet big.

"Oh, I heard this joke today!" the brat announced suddenly, just as Blake was about to raise. "Three one eyed men walk into an empty bar and - "

" - shut it," Nick snapped absently, without even looking up. "Okay, I'm folding. This hand isn't worth shit."

He smirked. Okay then. Now he just had to take out the others too. "Brat, get me another beer," he ordered, and he laughed, listening to the scrabbling behind him as the brat rushed to obey. "Stupid kid." This would be his fifth beer of the night, and already he had a pleasant buzz on. He didn't know where it had came from, but no one seemed to have a problem with him drinking as much as he wanted. "I'll raise thirty," he announced loudly.

Nick's hand was flat on the table and his knuckles were white. He laughed again. Not his problem if the guy folded before the hand really got going. He lit a cigarette as Dean folded too, and Chuck and John pondered whether to call or not.

The brat appeared silently at his elbow, laying the beer down on the table in front of him. He turned and blew smoke in the brat's face, leaving him coughing and spluttering. "Sorry," he said insincerely.

"Leave him alone!" John snarled, leaning back in his chair like he was ready to leap to his feet.

"Oh, come on, I'm not hurting him," he said, rolling his eyes across the table at Nick conspiratorially. Nick smiled back across the table at him, all his teeth showing, but he didn't say anything. "You're not hurt, are you, brat?"

The brat shook his head silently and, amused, Blake reached up and grabbed the brat by his stupid boy scout uniform, stubbing his cigarette out on his woggle.

"Stop that," John burst out, turning across the table to appeal to Nick. "Da - "

" - ow!" the brat squealed suddenly, even Blake was absolutely certain that none of the ash had so much as touched him. He jumped, knocking into the table and stumbling slightly, ending up grabbing Nick's shoulder for support and for a second it looked like he was squeezing, holding on longer than he had to, and then Nick grabbed his hand and shoved it to the side.

"Go get me another beer," Nick said gruffly. "And let's carry on with this game while we still got some night left, huh?"

John was still glaring at him. Whatever. He was so concerned about the brat, he wasn't going to be thinking about his cards and that was all to the good.

* * *

He lost count of the number of hands he'd played and the number of beers he'd drunk. The bottles were piling up in front of him. John and Dean were nearly out of it. Chuck was doing good though. Really good. So far he'd won 'most every hand he'd dealt, and Blake frowned darkly as Chuck won again.

"You're having a good night," John commented tightly.

Chuck grinned obliviously. "Yeah. I swear I'm not normally this lucky."

"If it _is_ luck," Dean muttered moodily.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Chuck demanded indignantly, dealing out the next hand of cards.

Nick glanced at his briefly before frowning and throwing them down in disgust. "This is the exact same hand I got last time. Fuck's sake, you shuffling these at all?"

"Of course," Chuck claimed, looking round at Blake and Dean for support, but they just looked away. There was a pattern here and it was embarrassing to be anywhere near.

"Maybe we should just cut you out of the dealing," he suggested.

Nick made a contemptuous noise. "Not like any of you are great shakes at it. Anyone would think you'd never even been to a casino before."

He certainly hadn't. And he doubted it was any different for Chuck or Dean. "I - "

" - you know, maybe I should just deal for every hand fron now on," Nick suggested with a hint of a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"No," he said immediately. No way he was gonna let them be taken advantage of like that.

"Worth a try," Nick said with a shrug. "You know, real casinos have dealers who aren't even playing. Maybe someone wouldn't mind quitting and just helping the rest of us play."

Yeah, right. He wanted to win. And so did everyone else.

"Too bad we don't have someone else," Dean said with a sihg, looking down at the dwindling pile of money in front of him. "Someone who'd actually play _fair,_" he added with a dirty look at Chuck.

Unnoticed, the brat had got up and silently crept over to the table. "Nick, I'm hungry," he whined softly.

Nick scowled at him briefly. "You can get something when we get in," he told him shortly.

Blake laughed. "Hey, brat, you know how to deal cards?"

The brat turned round and stared at him, wide-eyed and blinking. "Uh, yes, I mean I learned for my magic act in the school talent show. I came in second, and that was only cos Daisy Smith used real - "

" - shut _up, _brat," Nick interrupted while for some inexplicable reason, John was laughing to himself. But Nick's eyes were speculative as he eyed the kid. "You can really deal cards?"

This time he kept his mouth shut as he nodded.

That really hadn't been the answer any of them had been expecting, he thought. But now, maybe it was the beer talking, but it sounded hilarious. "Let the brat deal," he sniggered. "If you can't trust a boy scout, who can you trust?"

Nick sighed and kicked the empty chair at his side out from under the table. "There. Sit. Deal the cards and keep your mouth shut. And if you screw this up, I'll make you regret it for a year."

Blake leaned in close to the kid. "We'll take those badges you love so much and force them down your throat, one by one," he promised.

There was the briefest flash of something in the brat's eyes, and just for a moment, he was sure the brat was going to say something. But then it was gone and he looked just as cowed and uncertain as always. Blake responded to the momentary feeling of unease by patting the kid lightly on the cheek. "There you go."

"Leave him _alone,_" John growled again.

"Oh, what, is he your girlfriend?" Blake taunted. "Let me guess, it's the shorts, right? Those smooth golden thighs. How could anyone resist."

John leapt to his feet. "I should - "

" - John," Nick interrupted sharply.

John too no notice. "People like you make me _sick. _You're nothing but a coward and a bully. If I had my way we'd - "

" - _John,_" Nick said again, and even without raising his voice, the temperature in the room dropped a degree or two.

"Who?" John asked irritably, then froze. "I mean, what?"

For a long moment, Nick just stared at him. Then, evenly, he said "Sit down and play."

John obeyed. Blake wasn't surprised.

With a nervous glance round the table, the brat pulled the cards closer and started to shuffle. They danced smoothly through his fingertips.

* * *

It was very late now and the world was swimming in front of his eyes. One thing he knew though, he was losing and losing badly. Most of his money was in front of Nick, and the rest was in the middle of the table.

John had gone out a few hands back, and he'd stormed out with bad grace after the brat had fetched him his coat and whispered some stupid childish nonsense. And Dean had crashed and burned a bit before that, but he was still here, tossing around the ball he'd made from the brat's Captain America comics.

Problem was, he'd got cocky. He'd had a few great hands in a row, he'd been winning big, and then all of a sudden everything had turned to shit at once. He'd been holding a straight, one he'd been working on for ages, and then it turned out Nick had a royal flush. After that he'd fallen to pieces, but he was sure he could get it all back if he just got a break.

Too bad that wasn't looking like it was going to happen.

"You gonna call or what?" Nick demanded irritably, glancing at his watch.

He didn't have anything to call _with, _and Chuck was in the same boat. He'd already put all his money in, and all the money they'd got from Doug.

"I-I can't," he stammered.

A cold smile spread across Nick's face. "Then I guess the pot's mine," he said.

"No, hang on," he protested. "Let me think."

There had to be something. _Surely. _

Even as he thought, there was the sound of shouting and running footsteps coming from outside, and there was a touch of light showing under the door.

"Someone's coming," he said stupidly. "Hey!"

Nick was already on his feet, sweeping all the money into a backpack. "That'll be the nightwatchman," he said. "Unless they just went ahead and called the cops straight away."

"What?!" he demanded, struggling to his feet. "What the fuck?"

"We need to get out of here," Chuck agreed urgently, rummaging around the floor for his shoes and jacket.

Nick and the brat were already vanishing out the door. Just before it swung shut, the brat looked back at them and grinned widely. "So long, guys. Nice knowing you."

And then they were gone, and the money was gone, and they still had to get out of here. "Come on," he snapped, stumbling towards the door, his legs made of rubber.

The corridors were dark and they raced through, searching desperately for the way out of this stupid school, and the flashlights crept closer all the time.

Suddenly he saw a familiar stairwell. "This is it!" he yelled. This was the way that led back to the open door. He smirked, relieved. They'd get out of here and then they'd go track down those bastards and make them pay. "Come on."

He staggered down the stairs, clinging tightly to the bannister and he crashed into the door, feeling around blindly for the handle.

It was locked.

They were locked in. And the flashlights were shining down on them. "Alright, boys," a voice drawled from above. "We've got you covered. How 'bout you just come quietly."

It didn't seem like they had much choice.

* * *

They lay flat on the school roof, side by side, watching as Blake and his friends were bundled into the back of a squad car.

"Doubt Doug's mother will be so happy to leave him with his cousin after they get a call from the cop shop," he grinned.

"And Doug'll be pleased when we give him his money back," Rusty nodded, counting out the cash.

Danny reached over and added a couple of bills to the pile. "Plus a little extra."

"Plus a little extra," Rusty agreed, smiling at him. "And there's the cut we promised Buzz and the others, and we're _still _up nearly a hundred dollars."

"Huh." He thought about that for a moment. "Want to go to the new video store at the weeknd? See what we can pick up?"

Rusty smiled and stretched. "Sounds good." He grimaced and looked down at himself. "You know, Blake might have had a point. These shorts are really too short."

"They look good on you," Danny said insincerely.

"There's a hole in your woggle," Rusty told him.

He pursed his lips. "Sounds - "

" - doesn't it just," Rusty nodded.

He stole a sideways look at Rusty. He was smiling still, looking happy and victorious, still riding the usual wave of post-job joy. And yes, Danny was feeling most of that too, but there was a knot in his stomach.

"We should have done this the other way around," Rusty said, looking at him carefully."

"That would have made the shorts even shorter," he pointed out lightly.

"Don't think it's the short you should be worrying about," Rusty told him. "Think it's the tight."

He raised an eyebrow. "You calling me fat?"

"If the shorts fit," Rusty smiled before growing serious. "None of it was real, Danny."

"I know," he said. It wasn't. But that didn't mean it had felt good. He couldn't help comparing himself to -

" - no," Rusty said levelly. "I'm not a scared boy scout and you're not...you're not _that._"

He smiled. "No we're not," he agreed, and the knot in his stomach evaporated. "You reckon the cops took the rest of the beer?"

"If they didn't, chem class tomorrow is gonna be more interesting than usual," Rusty said.

He laughed. "Come on. Mr Stewart would have drank it long before class started."

"I left a couple of beers back at yours," Rusty told him, standing up slowly. "I got an extra crate in case we needed to bribe Buzz a little more." He looked pensive. "Should have told him he could have them if he managed to avoid punching Blake."

Danny stood up too, brushing the dust from the roof off his knees. "Should have promised _me _that," he said. It had been a close run thing. The temptation had been almost too much to bear.

Rusty smiled. "You are a paragon of self control," he said, stepping in close and reaching his hand up to Danny's face affectionately. Wondering, he reached up his hand towards Rusty's. Then Rusty quickly ripped the false moustache off his face.

"_Ow_," he complained.

"Better to do it quickly," Rusty said unrepentantly.

Oh, that was just -

" - pizza?" Rusty suggested innocently.

He gave up. "Pizza," he agreed.

The perfect end to a ridiculous evening.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think. ;) **


	49. Gnome and Garden

**Timeline:**

**1. 'In the beginning' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 13 and 14) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**2. 'Neverending Conversation' Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 15 and 16) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine.**

**3. 'Growing Together' (Chapter 44) Rusty is seven, Danny is nine**

**4. 'Trick and Treat' (Chapter 34) Rusty is eight, Danny is ten.**

**5. 'Matilda and the Werewolf' (Chapter 23) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven.**

**6. 'Fishing Trip' (Chapter 47) Rusty is nine, Danny is eleven**

**7. 'Something more than it should be' (Chapter 10) Rusty is ten, Danny is twelve**

**8. 'The humiliation of Norris Carrol' (Chapter 20) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**9. 'Four Day Interlude' (Chapter 5) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**10. 'Remember the first time' (Chapter 4) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**11. 'Sunshine, smiles and sweet, sweet words' (Chapter 17) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen.**

**12. 'Lie, Cheat, Steal, Play' (Chapter 24) Rusty is ten, Danny is thirteen**

**13. 'View from the outside' (Chapter 12) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**14. 'When we were young' Part 1, 2, 3 and 4 (Chapter 25-28) Rusty is eleven, Danny is fourteen**

**15 'Gnome and Garden' (Chapter 49) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**16. 'And we won't get it back when we die' (Chapter 29) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fourteen**

**17. 'Walk before you can crawl' (Chapter 2) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**18. 'Other Nightmares Parts 1 and 2 (Chapters 8 and 9) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**19. 'Unseasonal' (Chapter 36 37, 38, 39 40, 41, 42 & 43) Rusty is twelve, Danny is fifteen**

**20. 'The more things change' (Chapter 1) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**21. 'Different Roads' Part 1-3 (Chapter 31-33) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is fifteen**

**22. 'Words and Silence' (Chapter 22) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**23. 'Stocking, Glitter, Snow' (Chapter 46) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen**

**24. 'Six months of roses' (Chapter 18) Rusty is thirteen/fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**25. 'Two stories with some understanding' (Chapter 21) Rusty is thirteen, Danny is sixteen. Falls within time of'Six months of roses'**

**26. 'Life Lessons' (Chapter 7) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen - falls within time of 'Six months of roses'**

**27. 'The lies we live' (Chapter 3) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**28. 'All Fun and Games' (Chapter 45) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is sixteen**

**29. 'If the fates allow' (Chapter 19) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**30. 'This is our decision (to live fast and die young)' (Chapter 6) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**31. 'Crooked Game' (Chapter 48) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**32. 'Such a perfect day' (Chapter 11) Rusty is fourteen, Danny is seventeen**

**And sequels after they move away!**

**'Adjusting' - two months after they leave town, Rusty is 15, Danny is 17**

**'Date Night' - just over a year after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 18**

**'Time to regret' - shortly before 'Learning Curve'**

**'Learning Curve' - eighteen months after they leave town, Rusty is 16, Danny is 19**

**'All in the family' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Stockings, Glitter, Snow' - shortly after 'Learning Curve'**

**'Outward Ripples' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Eye for an Eye' - Rusty is 18, Danny is 20**

**'Chasing Echoes' - set after O11.**

**'Reconstruction' - set after movies.**

* * *

The fourth of July garden party had always been a tradition for Danny's parents. It was a chance to show off for the neighbours, be the talk of the town in all the right ways for once. And now Dad had left, seemed liked Mom was desperate to prove to the neighbours that nothing had changed, that she had nothing to be ashamed of and she could still hold her head up high.

And of course, that meant that she wanted Danny there, dressed up smart and on his very best behaviour. Fortunately, as a very special bribe, she'd let him invite Rusty. Which was a colossal relief; he knew that everyone at the party was going to want to talk about Dad, and he really didn't think he could bear that without Rusty there. Who knew, maybe Mom had finally realised what a calming influence Rusty could be on him.

That didn't make it any easier when, an hour before the party was due to start, Mom had them lined up in the hallway, looking them over with a critical eye, her attention lingering unhappily on the two yellowing black eyes Rusty was sporting.

"Don't you own a tie, Robert?" she demanded irritably.

Rusty shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said softly.

She sniffed unhappily. "Well, I suppose it's too late now," she said darkly. "Daniel, did you remember to polish your shoes?"

"Yes, Mom," he said quietly.

"Clean your teeth?" she pressed.

"Yes, Mom," he said again.

"Scrub behind your ears?" she went on, towering over him.

"_Yes, _Mom," he said through gritted teeth. Honestly, he knew how to keep himself clean.

Thankfully, she seemed satisfied for the moment. "Alright then," she said, grimly. "I expect you to be on your best behaviour today, and I promise if you put one foot out of line there will be unpleasant consequences." Her gaze drifted to Rusty. "Just so we're clear that means being polite and attentive at all times, not drawing attention to yourselves and speaking only when spoken to. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Rusty said immediately.

"Yes, Mom," Danny echoed, and he wished he didn't have to be here. Wished he'd never invited Rusty. Because suddenly the comfort and support Rusty offered didn't seem worth putting him through the snide and the condescending.

"Now," Mom went on. "I _don't _expect you to spend all your time stuffing your faces at the buffet. I can assure you, the caterers are expensive and exclusive, and the food is intended for guests."

"I won't eat anything," Rusty promised steadily.

Mom sighed loudly. "Well of course you can _eat, _Robert. I just don't want to see you shovelling food into your mouth like you haven't been fed in a week."

Danny's fingernails were digging into his palm, and even though Rusty wasn't looking at him, he could still feel the warning. He bit his tongue furiously.

"While we're on the subject," Mom added stiffly. "I expect to see you using your cutlery properly, and a napkin. And don't talk with your mouth full, and take small bites, and do not put your elbows on the table, for pity's sake."

"Yes, ma'am," Rusty said, and only Danny would be able to hear the humiliation in his voice. He bit his tongue a little harder. There was no need for this lecture. And the worst thing was, he honestly didn't know if Mom knew that or not. Fuck, he didn't even know which would be worse. For Mom to think so little of them, or for her to be doing this out of cruelty and spite.

"Most importantly," she finished awfully, eyes fixed on the bruises again, "I do _not _want to hear that you've been telling any of your wild stories. Charlene's husband is going to be here, and he's a police lieutenant. I promise you, the police will not see the funny side. I'm sure you'd rather they thought you were clumsy and stupid than that you're a hoodlum, so if someone is so crass as to ask what happened to your face, you will tell them it was an accident."

"Of course, ma'am," Rusty said obediently – woodenly – and as the rage howled through Danny's head, he opened his mouth, ready to say _something _and Rusty kicked him sharply in the ankle. "There's no point," he told Danny softly, after Mom had stalked off to yell at the caterers. "You know it's not gonna change anything. It'll just put her in a bad mood."

"She's always in a bad mood," Danny pointed out sharply, and maybe it didn't matter whether or not anything would change, maybe sometimes it was just important to say _something. _

Rusty sighed. "I think maybe she misses your Dad."

Danny stared. "They were always fighting," he reminded Rusty.

"Maybe that's what she misses," Rusty said with a shrug.

He swallowed hard. That was true, it would explain a lot. "Hell of a thing, staying together for hate's sake," he said, staring out the door towards Mom. He didn't like feeling sorry for her. It made everything more complicated.

* * *

The party was about as much fun as Danny had been expecting it to be. There were people all over the garden, standing in little knots, drinking champagne and eating little canapés, and the conversation was flowing easily. He heard Dad's name mentioned far too often and every time he looked round, just in case Dad was here. Just in case Dad had come home.

They wandered, so that Mom had a chance to see Danny being seen, smiling politely and speaking only when spoken to. He sighed to himself as he noticed how careful Rusty was not to even glance at the canapés. Time and again they were stopped by various adults and went through the same catechism. Yes, he was enjoying the summer vacation, yes, his mother was pleased with his grades, no, he hadn't heard from Dad for a while but he was sure he would be calling soon, yes, the roses were really beautiful and it was a shame Mom wasn't interested in entering the garden competition on Thursday.

The worst of them was Miss Gormley, who kept them trapped for what felt like hours and made an unpleasant sort of creaking noise at the back of her throat at every answer he gave. "You have a very glib tongue, boy," she said at last disapprovingly. "It's going to get you in trouble one day. Pretty words can't make up for a black heart, I'm afraid."

This time it was his turn to kick Rusty to prevent the outburst, but fortunately they managed to escape immediately afterwards by pretending to spot Uncle Harold waving to them from across the lawn. By silent mutual agreement, they decided they'd done enough polite mingling for the moment, and they ducked past a waiter and round beneath the cherry trees where Mike, John and David were standing around with sparklers and glasses of iced lemonade.

"Having a good time?" Danny asked ironically.

They looked round. "Yeah, thanks," Mike grinned. "Want a sparkler?"

"Sure," he said, taking it gingerly, and watching with amusement as Rusty seized another one with enthusiasm. "Try not to set fire to anything, will you?"

"No promises," Rusty said cheerfully, waving the sparkler round in a circle.

"What happened to your face, Rusty?" Mike asked casually.

"Huh? Oh." Rusty grinned. "Fell off a train."

"_What?_" the three boys all stared. Danny shook his head imperceptibly. So much for no wild stories.

"Yeah," Rusty nodded. "I was going after this murderous art forger. We got into a fight on the top of the train, and I forgot to duck to avoid a signal overhanging the track."

John blinked. "That's the plot of Silver Streak."

"Yep," Rusty agreed. "Makes you wonder how he didn't wind up with two black eyes, doesn't it?"

"Actually, yes," Mike said with a frown. "Maybe - " He stopped talking abruptly, staring over Danny's shoulder, and he turned in time to see Juliet Darcey picking her way towards them. Damn. No way to run without it being really obvious.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Darcey," he said instead, smiling politely. "I hope you're enjoying the party?"

"Oh, yes, Daniel," she said, looking each of them over in turn, as if she was searching for anything they might be doing wrong. "Your mother's parties are always so...predictably quaint" She laughed lightly at nothing in particular.

Danny smiled back, trying desperately to think of anything he could say. He was aware of Rusty standing beside him, carefully keeping his mouth shut. They both knew that she was looking for any sign of rudeness, anything that she could take back to his mother. And, from past experience, absolutely anything that Rusty said qualified. The others shifted uncomfortably behind them.

"Have you heard from your father at all?" she went on, watching him carefully through narrowed eyes.

"Not recently," he said carefully, once more hardening his heart against the truth.

"Dear me." She shook her head sadly. "Still, I'm sure he's busy, getting settled in with that new girlfriend of his...oops!" She covered her mouth in mock dismay.

Danny inclined his head and carefully didn't look at anyone. "Probably," he agreed. Wasn't like that was anything new or surprising.

She narrowed her eyes, obviously unhappy at the lack of reaction. "And your little friend is here as well," she added, turning to look at Rusty as though he was some sort of particularly unpleasant insect. "That's...nice. Not been locked up yet, then?" She smiled like it was a joke. They all knew it wasn't.

Damn. She was obviously expecting an answer from Rusty. And there wouldn't be a right answer. Nothing that Rus' could say that she wouldn't declare rude.

"No, ma'am," Rusty said softly. "Danny was nice enough to invite me to the party. The garden is very pretty, don't you think?"

It was all he could do not to kiss Rusty then and there for the opening. "Talking of gardens," he said quickly, as Juliet narrowed her eyes at Rusty, like she was gearing up to make his faults known. "Are you entering the garden competition this year, Mrs Darcey?" He already knew the answer, but that wasn't the point. There was nothing Juliet Darcey liked talking about more than her own successes.

"Of course," she said, with a little sniff. "In fact, my garden is going to be the first the judges see. I shouldn't be surprised if they decide not to bother visiting any others. My hard work has really paid off this year. It's hard work that's the key, Daniel. Hard work, perseverance, and a dozen other qualities that I'm afraid you really know nothing about."

He smiled carelessly. "Well, good luck," he said brightly, and somehow she was moving away and she hadn't got the entertainment she'd been looking for.

He breathed a sigh of relief and exchanged a quick glance with Rusty. Yeah. This party was officially awful.

* * *

It didn't exactly get any better. By dusk, hunger had finally won out and Rusty had agreed to get something from the buffet. It was on a table in a little half tent thing, and by this time was pretty damned empty of both people and food.

"What do you think this is?" he wondered, pointing at a plate full of little circles of batter and pink and green.

"Shrimp," Rusty said confidently. "Probably."

"Huh." Shrimp that had been sitting out in the open all day. He wrinkled his nose, looking around for something else. Chicken sounded a little safer. As did the little vegetable tartlets and the olive bread. He grinned and loaded his plate. Apparently he was hungry.

"Oh! Profiteroles!" Rusty exclaimed, happily, grabbing three at once.

Danny looked at him, amused. "You maybe want to just take the plate?"

A flash of guilt crossed Rusty's face.

Damn. "It's - " he began, by way of apology.

" - yeah," Rusty said quietly, still gazing down at his plate.

There was a sudden noise behind them. Voices, as someone else came towards the buffet tent. In an instant, Rusty had grabbed his plate and dived under the table. Automatically, Danny followed, pulling the cloth across the bottom of the table so they were completely concealed.

He glanced across at Rusty, raising an eyebrow and silently asking if it was really better to be caught hiding under the table than to be caught with the food.

Rusty grinned awkwardly, suggesting that it was probably better not to be caught at all.

And that was true. He held his breath as the voices came closer.

"There's bound to be another bottle around here somewhere."

"Look. There's one on the table there."

He recognised the female voice immediately. Juliet Darcey. Two pairs of feet came into view and stopped, right in front of them. He gritted his teeth. Oh, that was just perfect. Suddenly, he was very glad they'd chosen to hide.

" - well, of course I was expecting Annette to get the solo, but she's only the understudy. And honestly, I had to kick up a fuss to even get her that." There was the sound of a cork popping and then liquid pouring. "I really don't believe it. I've been paying over a hundred dollars a month for eight years. And then some talentless little tramp walks in and gets the best part."

"Mmm," the man said, sounding bored, and there was a pause and he could hear them drinking. Didn't seem like they were planning on leaving anytime soon. He glanced towards the back of the tent, wondering if there was any chance to sneak out without being seen. But Rusty shook his head quickly. Right. They'd wait it out.

"And you know it's just because she's coloured," Juliet went on, her voice rising.

_What? _Danny turned round so fast he almost smacked his head on the top of the table. Oh, she couldn't have just said that, _surely. _

"It's all this affirmative action, it's getting in the way of what really matters," Juliet said. "These people are taking advantage. It's creating a culture of entitlement among them. There's one little coloured girl in the class and she gets the solo, do you honestly think that's a coincidence? She shouldn't be in there at all – I mean, her father is an _electrician. _What can she possibly know about ballet?" She made an angry little tutting noise. "Civil rights are all very well, but that doesn't mean I want them living on my doorstep. And really, I think we're all more comfortable amongst out own kind. I'm not a racist, but all that sort of person knows how to do is take, take, take."

He thought of Mabel and her boundless, unending kindness, her generosity. Everything that Juliet said went against that. He could hardly breathe through the anger. It wasn't just the words, or the attitude – it was the ugly sincerity in her voice. Not only did she believe everything she was saying, she honestly thought that everyone else agreed with her. He wanted to stand up, to tell her how very, very wrong she was, and it was only Rusty's hand clamped around his wrist that kept him in place.

"I think the fireworks are starting," the man said distantly. "Let's get going."

They waited until the foosteps had died away before silently scrambling out from the table. Danny took a deep breath. "She's - "

" - _yes_," Rusty agreed, and the anger in Danny was echoed in his eyes.

Damn. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. They'd just sat there and said nothing while she'd said all that. The fury whispered through him and, restless and indignant, he strode out of the tent, Rusty a half-step behind him.

The fireworks were just starting up. Above them, the sky was full of lights and explosions, and all the guests were staring and distracted.

Danny turned back to look at Rusty. "You know what? I'm tired of letting things go."

Rusty smiled at him, his eyes bright. "When have you ever let anything go?"

In response, Danny looked at the bruising around his eyes. When had he ever let something go? He let it go every damned day.

Rusty sighed. "Apart from that," he muttered. He rubbed his fingers across his mouth. "We don't let it go, Danny. We'll do something, I swear."

Only not today. Not now, when there would be consequences and complications. He sighed and leaned back, staring up at the fireworks over head. They'd planned on heading up to his room as soon as possible, making sure that Mom didn't realise that Rusty was staying. But now, thinking about what Rusty had said earlier... "I was thinking," he said casually. "I might hang around and help Mom clear up."

"Mmm." Rusty tilted his head and looked at him and he could see in Rusty's eyes the doubt. Would Mom even appreciate it?

He shrugged. "Maybe that doesn't matter," he said.

* * *

Mom wasn't exactly grateful for the help. She sent Rusty home immediately, and put Danny to work, and somehow walking round the garden, picking up discarded plates, empty glasses and burnt-out sparklers merited a list of everything he'd done wrong. All the gossip that had got back to Mom at the party. Miss Gormley had said he was glib and arrogant. Uncle Harold had said he was rude and inattentive. Mrs Arthur and Mrs Ferrell had both agreed it was a pity he spent all his time hanging around with That Boy instead of studying, and wasn't it a shame how he was throwing his life away?

She didn't mention Dad. And Danny knew that far more people had been talking about Dad than had been talking about him. Still hurt though. He bit his lip. "Maybe if you didn't encourage them – maybe if you didn't _agree _with them, they wouldn't keep saying that stuff," he suggested. Unwisely.

She shot him a sharp look. "Maybe if you didn't keep doing everything wrong, they wouldn't have anything to gossip about."

He flushed, his shoulders hunched, and he wanted to answer back, wanted to make her take it back, admit that he _didn't _do everything wrong, it was just that nothing he ever did was good enough, not for her, not for her friends.

But he thought of what Rusty had said, and maybe she was trying to pick a fight with him, because maybe that's what she was used to. And just because something was what someone was used to, didn't mean it was _right. _Didn't mean it was what they deserved.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he said instead, softly and sincerely, and she looked at him with surprise and confusion.

"Yes. Well." She struggled for a second. "Don't do it again."

"I won't," he promised, and she snorted dismissively. He quickly tried to change the subject. "I thought the party was a success, didn't you? Everyone seemed impressed at the fireworks, and I heard Mrs Katzen saying how nice the buffet was. She said it must have cost a fortune, but it was worth every cent."

"Really." A small smile graced her face. "Good. It's the attention to detail that really matters in things like this, Daniel."

He nodded, trying his best to look impressed. "I'll remember that," he said, stacking paper plates up ready to put them in the trash. "Everyone says you throw the best parties. I had fun today, Mom. Thank you."

She smiled again, and he felt his heart soar. She hardly ever smiled with her eyes like that. Certainly not since Dad had left. He had made her happy, even if it was just for a moment. Did it really matter that he'd had to lie to do it?

"I tell you what, Daniel," she said. "Why don't we take these things inside and leave the rest till tomorrow. We can catch more fireworks on TV, and finish up the rest of the lemonade. Sound good?"

"Sounds good," he agreed, smiling.

* * *

The next day was bright, hot and sunny. Rusty met him in the park, wearing long sleeves.

With a sigh, he stepped forwards and carefully rolled up Rusty's sleeve. Rusty didn't resist. The skin underneath was mottled with dark bruises.

He swallowed hard. He always let this go.

"That's it," Rusty said quickly. "He just grabbed me, and shoved me aside and that was only cos I was in his way. 's nothing, Danny, really."

He nodded. "We should've - "

" - she was never gonna let me stay," Rusty argued with a shrug. "She knew I was there, remember?"

He remembered. "That doesn't make it okay."

Rusty shrugged again, and he understood the way Rusty saw it. It had happened, and that was an end to it. "So how did it go?" Rusty asked carefully.

It was his turn to shrug. "Okay," he said. "I think. We didn't really talk about anything – didn't talk about Dad – but she didn't yell. Not too much, anyway. And she suggested we watch TV together. That's something, right?" Better than it had been the past three months, anyway.

"That's something," Rusty agreed. He glanced over towards the ice cream stand, and with a smile, Danny nodded and they strolled their way over. "What you going to do next?" he asked a moment later, between mouthfuls of chocolate ice cream.

"Not sure," he admitted. "I keep thinking if I could just show her..." He trailed off. But he knew that Rusty knew what he meant. If he could just show Mom that he cared, that things could be different, that they didn't need to argue, that he would be there for her, if she'd only let him. He sighed. "Gonna tell me I can't change the world?"

Rusty smiled at him, his eyes bright with fond affection. "Never."

He smiled back, dismissing Mom for the moment. "Alright, then. Juliet Darcey."

"Juliet Darcey," Rusty echoed.

He'd been thinking about this last night before he fell asleep. "I know it can't be anything that can be traced back to us. And it can't be anything too direct. But it needs to be something - "

" - a short, sharp shock," Rusty cut in. "Something that targets - "

" - something that _gets _her," Danny nodded. He paused. "What's most important to her?"

Rusty pulled a face. "Annette."

True. And that wasn't even worth discussing. "What's _second _most important to her," he conceded.

"Her reputation," Rusty nodded, and Danny smiled. He had no doubt that Juliet Darcey would hate the neighbours talking every bit as much as Mom always did. "Garden competition?"

"Garden competition," he agreed. "I think she should lose. I think she should lose so bad that people are gonna be talking about it for years to come."

"So what you thinking?" Rusty asked. "Weedkiller?"

Danny pictured a garden full of dead and withered plants. It would certainly achieve the effect they were looking for, but...

"Yeah," Rusty nodded, grimacing in response to his look. "'s crude."

He grinned. "So we're looking for something more refined?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Something we can do that'll change her garden without killing it. Something that she'll hate but that..." He broke off abruptly.

Rusty was watching him keenly. "What?" he asked.

"Something," Danny said with a shrug. Something you said, I think." He closed his eyes, trying to close in on the memory. Something Rusty had said. He concentrated on the memory of Rusty's voice, trying to pinpoint the details. The smell of heat and damp. The rustle of paper. Mild, amused annoyance. "Okay," he said, opening his eyes. "We were in the school basement. You were reading those Reader's Digests, and you were talking about things that lower house prices and - "

" - Gnomes," Rusty said at once. "Garden gnomes."

Garden gnomes. He pictured it. He pictured the look on Juliet Darcey's face. Oh, this would work.

Rusty frowned. "You want to put a gnome in her garden?"

"No." He shook his head, and took a deep, joyous breath. "I want to put a _hundred _gnomes in her garden."

There was a long pause. Rusty grinned slowly. "You think I can source a hundred garden gnomes for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Danny said, in a voice that meant _of course._

* * *

They stood on the kerb, staring across the street at the entrance way and the bright painted sign announcing the Crabapple Fields Garden Centre and Plant Nursery.

"You think they sell things other than crabapples?" he wondered.

Rusty shrugged. "I didn't even know crabs could climb trees," he said.

Danny looked at him. "See, I'm trying to figure out if you think the apples are laid by crabs, or if the crabs grow on trees."

"Maybe they're special sea apples," Rusty mused.

Right. "Okay," he said briskly. "So, what do we need to know?"

Rubbing his fingers round the edge of his mouth, Rusty took a moment before answering. "Best way in and out, _second _way to get out preferably, where the gnomes are kept, what any locks are like..." He shrugged. "The usual."

"Sounds about right," Danny nodded. He paused. "How noticeable do you think we're gonna be in there?"

Rusty pulled a face. "Think we can be sure they'll assume we don't have a garden."

Meaning they'd stand out. Meaning they'd be remembered. "Alright," he decided, glancing up at the sign over the low building pointing to the florist. "I'll buy something. You look round."

"Sure," Rusty nodded.

The garden centre was surrounded by a six-foot wall and even as they were walking in they could see a gate that could be drawn across at night, equally high and impossible. That was okay, though. Because as he caught Rusty's eye, they'd both already noticed a couple of places where there was something alongside it to climb up. They should be able to get in no problem. Now they just needed to figure exactly where they were going.

They took a circuitous route to the building, wandering through the trestle tables stacked with plants and shrubs, on the look out for any garden gnomes that might be lurking among the greenery. Danny doubted it, but you really never knew. All they time they were careful to keep up an animated conversation, careful to appear to be paying more attention to each other than their surroundings. Reconnaissance had to be subtle.

Once they reached the building, Danny walked straight up to the corner with the florists counter, while Rusty ambled off, apparently at random. Danny caught sight of a large display of lawn ornaments though, just past the pet supplies. He grinned. Looked like they were in business.

* * *

Barely a quarter of an hour later, they were outside. Rusty eyed the large bunch of cheerful flowers thoughtfully. "They for me?"

He grinned. "Figured I'd give them to Mom," he said easily.

Rusty's eyes flashed understanding. But all he said was "Pity. No one's ever given me flowers before. Who knows – I might like it."

"I'll bear that in mind," Danny assured him gravely. "Now. What do we know?"

"There's a few different gnomes on display, and I saw a couple of trays of them stacked up below the display area. I guess that's for when they have to restock," Rusty told him, rolling his shoulders.

"How many?" Danny asked practically.

"Has to be at least a hundred and fifty," Rusty said.

And that would be more than enough. He frowned. "How are we going to - "

" - take the trays," Rusty cut in immediately. "Have a shopping cart waiting outside. We can make more than one trip, if necessary."

"Oh, you just have all the answers, don't you?" he said with a smile.

Rusty grinned at him. "Why else do you keep me around? Windows are all easy, and I didn't see any alarms. Did see some wire cutters in the DIY section. Should be enough to cut through the gate if we decide to leave that way."

"Door's simple too," Danny added. He'd checked on the way in. "I don't see a problem going in either way, but it's gonna be easier to carry the gnomes out the door and gate."

"Right," Rusty agreed, lighting a cigarette. "So we're set?"

"We're set," Danny confirmed.

* * *

Mom was home when he got in, which was surprising. Since Dad had left she'd been working a lot of late nights and going out whenever she could. Danny figured there was one less reason for her to want to come home. That or she simply figured that at fourteen he was old enough to be left alone more. Not like he would disagree with that.

Still, it was nice to see her home for once, and she was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, and he could see through the doorway that she'd even set the table for two. He couldn't help the smile. But when she turned round and saw him, she was surprised.

"Oh. Daniel. I didn't hear you come in."

His smile didn't falter. "Hi, Mom. I got you these." He held out the flowers in front of him, like an offering, and his mind supplied the ridiculous mental image – Mom an angry volcano who had to be appeased, him the hopeful worshipper.

"Oh!" She stared at the flowers blankly for a moment before taking them. "Why?"

He made an effort not to shrug. "Just thought you'd like them," he said.

"Well, yes, they're very pretty she said, adding "Thank you," like an afterthought.

This time he did shrug. "No problem."

The doorbell rang suddenly. "That'll be Samuel," Mom said distractedly, dropping the flowers on the counter and patting down her hair quickly, before hurrying off.

Samuel? Danny had no idea who that was. But he glanced through at the two place settings in the dining room with new understanding.

Moments later, Mom reappeared, followed by a man in a smart suit. He was older than Dad. Taller too. And he had a watery, insincere smile that made Danny hate him on sight.

Mom was carrying a small bunch of red roses. "Aren't these beautiful?" she exclaimed, quickly grabbing a vase from the cupboard and taking time to arrange them. "Oh, Samuel, this is my son, Daniel. Daniel, this is Mr Barnes, my lawyer."

"Good to meet you, sir," he said politely, shaking the man's hand like he'd always been told to.

"Likewise," Samuel murmured. "I'm handling the divorce on your mother's behalf, so I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other. I will need to interview you at some point, no doubt."

Divorce? Danny felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly. "You're divorcing Dad?" he asked, not able to stop himself.

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, before Mom made a kind of angry huffing noise. "Honestly, Daniel, it's not exactly unexpected, is it?"

No. No, of course it wasn't, but no one had actually said the word before, and he'd thought...he'd expected that maybe they'd talk about it first. At the very least, he'd thought they'd tell him themselves, before they got the lawyers involved.

"You needn't look like that, Daniel," Mom went on angrily, scowling at him. "This is all your fault, you know."

He couldn't help the flinch. She'd said that the night Dad had left. He'd kind of hoped she hadn't really meant it.

"Now then, Barbara," Samuel said reprovingly. "Playing the blame game isn't going to help matters at this stage."

Briefly, Mom turned on him, and Danny was sure she was gearing up to start shouting, but then she took a couple of deep breaths. "Yes, of course," she said, and she looked back at Danny and stared at him for a second, like she desperately wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how.

"Will he be joining us for dinner?" Samuel asked, glancing sideways at Danny, his brow creased.

"No," Mom said, without hesitating. "Daniel, Mr Barnes and I have a lot to discuss, and we can't have you underfoot. I'll make you a sandwich and you can eat it in your room, unless you'd rather go out?"

"I'll go out," he said, his voice subdued. Rusty had been going to Mabel's. Danny had been going to meet him there after dinner, so they could wait for nightfall together.

"Very well," Mom nodded, and she rummaged in her purse and came up with a twenty dollar bill. "Here. Take this and get something to eat, and maybe you could go to the movies afterwards?"

"Sure," he agreed. He hesitated. "May I use the phone before I go?"

"Of course," Mom said, with a complete lack of interest. Already she was focused on Samuel, and Danny was pretty certain they weren't just going to be talking business.

Silently, he left the room. His flowers lay abandoned on the kitchen counter.

At the phone, he pulled the piece of paper out of his pocket. Six months back, Dad had scrawled his new number across it. Danny hadn't tried it since then. Dad liked things to be on his own terms, and if Danny pestered him too much, Dad would draw away. But now...he wanted to talk. He wanted someone to tell him that this mattered.

The phone rang for ages, and for a while, Danny began to wonder if maybe Dad was out, or he'd even moved and not let him know. But then the phone was picked up, and he heard Dad's familiar voice. "Hello?"

"It's Danny," he said softly, not wanting to risk Mom overhearing.

"Danny...? Oh! Danny, hi. Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call." He sounded warm enough. Pleased enough to hear from him.

"Dad, I really need to talk to you," he began.

In the background, he heard a woman's voice calling Dad's name.

He closed his eyes, and he already knew what was going to happen before Dad began talking. "Listen, Danny, this really isn't a good time. Thanks for calling – it's been great catching up with you – but I'm afraid we're going to have to do this later. I'll call you at the weekend, okay? I promise."

"Sure, Dad," he made himself say. "Bye."

"Goodbye now, Danny." The phone was hung up, practically before he'd finished talking.

He sighed and stared down at the receiver in his hand for a long moment. There was a cloud of anger bubbling away at the back of his mind. Dangerous anger. Anger he couldn't do anything about. He couldn't do anything about his parents. He couldn't do anything about Rusty's Dad. He couldn't do anything about the lies and the hurt and the fear and the injustice. But right now, in some small, ridiculous way, he could make Juliet Darcey pay just for being herself, and that was going to have to do.

* * *

By moonlight, Danny was prepared to swear that the wall around the garden centre had grown at least another two foot. Now it looked foreboding. Ominous, even.

"I feel like we're breaking into Alcatraz," he murmured to Rusty as he clambered up onto the dumpster lid.

"Who breaks _into _Alcatraz?" Rusty asked, scrambling up beside him.

"Someone looking for a great view of San Francisco," Danny suggested.

Rusty grinned and gestured up towards the wall. "After you," he invited, stooping and making a step with his hand.

With a grimace and a certain amount of swearing, Danny managed to hop up and pull himself awkwardly up onto the top of the wall. Oh, this was high, narrow, and just a little bit dizzying.

"You're fine," Rusty's soft voice encouraged him from below. "Now, just lie flat and reach down to me."

He did, and he was _just _able to reach rusty and pull him up.

"Should've brought a ladder," Rusty suggested with a grin once they were both safely up. "Huh. Speaking of good views..."

"You wanna move on or you want to take a picture?" Danny asked dryly.

"You think I've got a camera on me?" Rusty asked. "Okay, let's make this quick." He put his hands on the wall and twisted around, ready to lower himself down.

There was a sudden low growling from beneath them.

Before he'd even fully registered it, Danny was grabbing Rusty by the wrists and hauling him all the way back up.

The growling grew louder as an enormous brown dog walked slowly towards the wall, staring up at them and making the sort of noise that had all the hairs on the back of Danny's neck standing on end.

"Well, fuck," Rusty said calmly, rubbing his wrists where Danny had grabbed him.

"A dog?" Danny demanded in a whisper, peering down over the edge of the wall. "Why do they have a dog? Who do they think is going to want to break into a garden centre?"

Rusty just looked at him.

He rolled his eyes. _"Apart_ from us, I mean," he added. "I don't exactly think it's an everyday occurrence. Gnomes aren't exactly a hot commodity."

"There's one from the nineteenth century that's valued at one and a half million dollars," Rusty told him, staring down at the dog. "It's one of the original batch that was designed to attract _real _gnomes to people's gardens."

Danny blinked and turned to look at him. "_Real _gnomes?"

"I don't think it worked," Rusty said with a shrug.

Not exactly relevant right at the moment. He looked back down at the dog. "You're the one who likes animals," he commented.

"Not when they have teeth like that," Rusty told him.

Danny sighed. "We make our way along the wall, we could jump onto the roof of the building," he said slowly. "Then we'd be able to climb through the window."

Rusty pursed his lips. "We should be able to get out the same way," he conceded. "Problem is, if something goes wrong, we wind up getting mauled."

"I admit that's a downside," he conceded. "But lets at least _try._"

Their gaze met for a long second. He could see in Rusty's eyes that he wanted to walk away right now. And really, he knew that was the smart thing to do. This was about revenge, they had nothing actually riding on it.

"Mom and Dad are getting a divorce," he blurted out. "She had her lawyer over for dinner tonight, and he let it slip. He brought her roses."

For a long time Rusty just looked at him. Then he reached out and grasped Danny's hand briefly, the touch warm and comforting. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Let's go."

Danny grinned with relief. One victory. That was all he asked.

Making their way along the top of the wall was easy enough, but the dog followed them every step of the way, staring up at them like they were two juicy steaks. Once they reached the top of the building though, he gazed at it unhappily. Jumping down should be easy enough. Jumping back up on the other hand...

"There's some planks there, see?" Rusty pointed. "On the other side of the roof. We should be able to make ourselves a bridge."

Ah. He nodded, and looked down over the edge. The dog was still there, staring up at him, growling and snarling, and he swore its eyes were fixed on his throat.

Rusty caught his arm. "Danny. You sure about this?"

"No," he said, with perfect truth, and he jumped. It took less than a second before his feet landed solidly on the roof, but somehow it felt a lot longer. He stumbled forwards and whirled round immediately, but Rusty landed gracefully beside him.

"We good?" he asked, and Rusty grinned.

Below them, the growling grew louder, breaking off into the occasional angry bark.

"Fuck!" he said with feeling. Someone was going to hear that. To have come this far and lose at the last moment...Wait. He grinned. "Hold on a second," he told Rusty, who blinked at him curiously, and he quickly ran to the window at the far side, leaning over the edge of the roof and working it open, before swinging his legs inside and jumping in. He could hear the dog throwing itself against the wall a second later and he shivered. Not good. Quickly he drew out his flashlight and flicked it on, searching through the shelves. Now. If he was remembering correctly...bingo! Pet supplies. He grabbed a large bag of dog food and a couple of rawhide bones and ran back to the window quickly, tearing the bag open and dumping the food out in a large pile.

"Here you go, boy," he said, hoping his voice sounded at least a little enticing.

The barking stopped. The dog threw itself at the food, wolfing it down like it was prime steak.

"Huh." Rusty's voice came from above him, and he tilted his head up to see Rusty lying flat on the roof, looking down at him. "That's one lousy guard dog."

"Let's not complain about that," he said dryly.

He carefully dropped one of the rawhide bones down next to the dog, hoping it would keep it occupied for a while. The other one he'd keep for emergencies.

"Other side," Rusty suggested.

"Other side," he agreed. Best not to tempt fate or dogs.

It didn't take much effort to find the trays of gnomes. It took a hell of a lot of effort to get the trays out through the narrow window and passed up to Rusty. From the outside he had a feeling this probably looked something like a Laurel and Hardy routine.

"There," he panted at last, when the third tray was safely out of his hands.

"Go pick up some liquid cement too," Rusty instructed.

Startled, he looked up into Rusty's grinning face.

"We don't want her to be able to remove them _that _easily, now do we?" Rusty explained.

Oh! "Anyone ever tell you, you're just a little bit evil?"

"Only in a good way," Rusty said cheerfully.

He ran through the shelves, flashlight trained on all the bottles and tubes he could find. Liquid cememt. There. He grabbed the wire cutters as well. Might not be necessary now, but he was willing to bet they would come in handy in the future. And on the way back, he spotted something else. 'Super Plant Food. Guaranteed greener grass overnight'? Now that they could work with.

Clutching them in his arms, he sprinted back towards the window and let Rusty help him clamber back onto the roof. Rusty had already got the bridge in place, but the dog was right below, jumping up and whining unhappily.

"Got another - " Rusty began, and in response, Danny threw the rawhide bone as far as he could. Instinctively, the dog went tearing after it, but he figured that wouldn't last long.

"Alright," he said grimly, picking up two of the trays while Rusty grabbed the third. "Let's do this quickly."

"Let's just not fall," Rusty advised.

They didn't. And by the time their feet were back on solid ground again, Danny was laughing. "Oh, we have to do this more often."

Rusty grinned. "How many gnomes could you possibly need?"

* * *

By the time they'd got back, and arranged Juliet Darcey's garden the way they wanted, it was after five and the sun was just beginning to creep up.

They looked round at their handiwork in silence.

"Happy?" Rusty asked softly.

He smiled. "Contented. Come on. We can catch a few hours sleep at last.

They headed towards his house, and he turned to catch one last look of the rosy dawn light shining down on the silent gnome army.

Tomorrow was going to be great.

* * *

They were woken less than three hours later by the shouting coming from downstairs. Sitting up blearily in bed, for a moment Danny thought that maybe Dad had come back. But then he recognised the sound of Samuel's voice.

"That - " Rusty started to ask.

" - yep," Danny said with a terse nod.

They could only make out snatches of the argument here and there.

"_Selfish?! I'm not - "_

" _- maybe if you weren't so focused on - "_

" _- you disgust me - "_

" _- you're a self serving bitch, you know that?" _

All stuff he'd heard before, and it ended in the front door slamming, and a moment later the sound of something smashing in the kitchen. He winced; this was all so familiar. For a moment he wondered if he should go down, try and talk to her, try and help...but then the front door slammed again.

"Guess she's gone to work," he said quietly.

Silently, Rusty reached out and took his hand.

Danny sighed. "Guess you were right." Truth was, Mom would rather spend her time arguing than spend time with him.

"Still doesn't mean she doesn't care about you," Rusty said softly.

"I know." He did. He just wasn't always sure how much it mattered.

From somewhere down the street there was the sound of music playing. Voices. Laughter. He grinned. "That'll be the garden competition," he said cheerfully. "Wanna go check it out?"

"Sounds like the perfect start to the day," Rusty told him with a smile.

On the way out they passed through the kitchen and saw the vase lying smashed on the floor with Samuel's flowers scattered through the broken glass. Danny's flowers were still lying on the counter, slowly wilting and dying.

Outside, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there was a large crowd gathered outside Juliet Darcey's house. There was even an ice cream truck. Either the mob had finally caught up with the monster, or their plan was a success.

They strolled over, grabbed a couple of popsicles, and easily made their way to near the front of the crowd.

It was magnificent.

There were gnomes peeking out of flower beds, gnomes nestled in the shrubbery, a couple with bright red hats carefully placed in a handy tree, a group of them standing together, gazing into the ornamental fountain, some spread over the stepping stones leading off from the drive, a whole squad poised to march towards the front door, and right in the centre of the lawn, letters in darker green loudly proclaimed "_I am a racist." _

And in the middle of it all Juliet Darcey, her face red, was standing with an armful of gnomes, desperately trying to persuade the onlookers – and the judges – to go away and come back in, say, an hour.

Danny reckoned that was probably optimistic. A couple of the gnomes on the stepping stones had been decapitated, suggesting she'd already found their work with the liquid cement.

"You know, I think it looks better this way," Rusty murmured in his ear. "'s more cheerful."

Danny grinned. "I agree. I think every garden needs a gnome army."

They continued to watch serenely as Juliet kicked desperately at the grass, trying to obscure the writing.

"Take it you had something to do with this?" Mike asked softly, coming up behind them.

They turned. "Of course not," Danny said innocently.

"We're just here for the ice cream," Rusty added, holding up his popsicle as evidence.

"Why would you even think that?" Danny wondered, the grin nowhere in sight.

Mike rolled his eyes. "Something bizarre, inexplicable and funny as hell happens to someone who's mean to you? Yeah, that's not your style at all."

Bizarre, inexplicable and funny as hell? He could live with that.

"Contented?" Rusty asked him in a low voice.

"Happy," he corrected with a smile.

They turned back to watch the show.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading, please review**


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